


By the way, I adore you.

by lxzyfangirl



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Humor, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Phan Angst, Pining, Sad, Slow Burn, Terminal Illnesses, Unrequited Love, a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 74,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lxzyfangirl/pseuds/lxzyfangirl
Summary: Dan is very sick, and the future is not looking too bright for him, thankfully, he has Phil, his best friend, to accompany him through it all. But is Dan satisfied with being just friends?





	1. I

**Phil**

It has been almost a year since Dan was diagnosed with lung cancer. Today we are headed for the hospital to get the results of the tests that will determine if he is cancer free. Google says that there is a 92% of chance he is going to be fine, and for once, I'm wishing Google is right.  
He has fallen asleep and his head is resting on my left shoulder, I can see his chest moving up and down. I look out the window to realize that we are a couple of blocks away so I start to wake him up. Summer in London can be disgustingly warm and today it’s particularly moist. Dan’s hair has started to form really tight curls because of the sweat forming on his forehead. I reach for his shoulder and shake it lightly.  
"Dan," I say, "Dan, wake up. We are almost there."  
He sighs and slowly removes his head from my shoulder. He rubs his eyes and looks at the window. I mimic him.  
When we get there I pay the cabbie and open the door for both Dan and I to get out, but being the stubborn man he is, he opens the door on his side. I don't want him to feel like I have started to treat him differently or that I pity him, but no matter how much time has passed since this started, I could never get used to seeing my best friend dying. I try to act normal anyway and I walk to the entrance of the hospital feeling a pinch of guilt in my stomach for letting him walk on his own but I know –I think– that's what he prefers.  
A year ago, when Dan was diagnosed, he was alone at the doctor's and he had entered into shock, later that day, when he arrived home and I asked what was wrong, he went supernova on me. He looked at me for a couple of seconds before tears started streaming down his face, he grabbed the first thing his hand could reach and threw it against the wall, then continued to melt onto the floor and started mumbling every curse word he knew. I kneeled next to him and placed my hand on his shoulder, he turned his face to look at me, stood up, sat on the couch and then told me everything the doctor had told him. The next day, when we went for his first session, the doctor explained that the cancer had spread from his right lung to the lymph nodes in the center of his chest, which meant that he was on stage two. He said that almost no one gets the proper attention in order to find the cancer whilst the tumor is still on the lung– I still don't know how that was supposed to make us feel better; I know it didn't. Stage two basically means that you are screwed, that you can't simply remove the tumor because it has already spread and made itself a very cozy home. A year ago when the doctor had told us he needed chemotherapy and probably radiotherapy it meant nothing to me, but today, I am quite the expert on cancer.  
As we walk down the hall I can hear Dan's unsteady breathing behind me, I clench my fists, close my eyes and take a deep breath. I try my best to swallow the knot forming down my throat; I look back and smile at him. He raises his eyebrows and replies with a small side smile. It's maybe impolite to think it but he looks awful. There’s no life in his eyes and the dark circles under them definitely don't help. His lips are red and swollen because he just won't stop biting them, his face looks drained from life and he has lost a lot of weight.  
We reach the doctor's office and I start biting my nails– that’s a new habit, and a terrible one considering I always make my fingers bleed before I realize I have gone too far.  
We sit on the chairs the doctor offers us as he sits on one himself. His hands are trembling, and he looks rather stressed. Is there a new patient? Has somebody died? A surgery gone wrong? I stop the negative thoughts and try to focus on my own trembling hands.  
"Gentleman, hello, it is very nice to see you again," the doctor says as he plays with his pen, "I, we, spent the entire night looking at your results, talking about your case and how the treatment has affected the tumors forming in your chest, and I have both good and bad news. The tumors that were located on the lymph nodes have completely disappeared, unfortunately, the one that is all over your lung, is still there, and even though its growth has been slowed down, there is a big chance that the chemotherapy will not get rid of it.  
“I didn't want to say it like this but unfortunately, I cannot rename medical terms, you have failed the chemotherapy. And this, in no way, means that it is your fault, however, it is imperative that we find another solution to your problem before the tumor finds a new place to spread."  
We are both quiet. I search the entirety of my brain for something appropriate to say but it is as if everything has been wiped. I command myself to speak but I cannot seem to find my mouth, I cannot feel my face and I cannot find the strength to move my lips or my tongue, I feel my eyes fall to the doctor's face and that's where they stay. I am unaware of the rest of my body. I can't feel anything. I can't hear, I can't speak.  
"There are other solutions," the doctor continues, he sounds like he’s really far away, "now that the cancer that had spread outside the lung area has been eliminated the possibility of surgery is viable again, and actually, the only option."  
"So, that means that now there is a possibility of removing the bit of the lung that has been affected," says Dan. He is sitting next to me but the ringing in my ears makes it difficult to hear him clearly.  
"Well, not exactly, you see, even though the chemotherapy slowed down the development of the tumor, it did not stop it. Your lung is completely covered by the cancer," the doctor replies as he lays his eyes on me. I should say something.  
"Which means that you would have to–" Dan is unable to finish the sentence because the doctor interrupts him.  
"Remove your lung entirely. Yes."  
I wasn't expecting this. I had been too positive, too careless; it is my fault that my best friend is losing his lung. I could've done more. I could’ve done something better.  
"As I said before, this is nobody's fault, the treatment simply didn't work, but we still have options Daniel, you can still get better," the doctor continues, but he isn't looking at Dan he is looking at me and someone who talks just like me starts shouting.  
"And how could you know?! You told us that the chemotherapy would most certainly work, but it didn't, did it? So what happens if you leave Dan with one lung and then it doesn't work? How can we trust such an incompetent doctor like y-" I feel a hand on my shoulder, the screaming voice was me, I had stood up, and was leaning towards the doctor, Dan is now holding me back with both hands. I sigh and leave the room quickly. _Well done Phil, this is the moment you decide to explode, screaming at the guy you have trusted Dan's life to. Amazing. You are so stupid._ Dan's long fingers wrap around my arm, I turn around to see him half smiling,  
"It's going to be okay Phil, don't let out the rage monster no one is supposed to know about in front of the guy who gives me the drugs," he laughs.  
"I am so sorry Dan, you shouldn’t be the one comforting me. I just, I can't lose you." I say as I get the credit card out of my pocket and walk towards the cashier. It feels like that sentence has lost all meaning after saying it so many times.  
"Eh, here's the money for the exams and, you know, everything."  
"The doctor would like to see Daniel this Friday, at what time should I make the appointment?" The cashier asks in a very lovely Scottish accent.  
"Uhh, Dan?” I ask as I turn to see him typing on his phone.  
"Yeah, anything after 12 is okay,” he replies, not looking away from the screen.  
"Okay dear, I have a free space at 12:30, is that alright?" She asks looking up at me with big green eyes.  
I nod and see her type Dan’s name onto the computer.  
"Thank you, I'll see you Friday then,” I say as I make my way towards the door.;  


* * *

We arrive to our apartment and I hold my breath when I hear Dan’s irregular breathing as he climbs up the stairs. Walking up the stairs is tiring enough; now imagine walking up the stairs when you have lung cancer. He goes straight to his room; there really is not much to do when you have cancer. I go to the kitchen and decide we deserve to eat some microwaved popcorn. I walk into his room with a bowl in one hand and the new anime we ordered a couple weeks ago in the other.  
"Hey you. I brought some popcorn and, guess what arrived today? Do you fancy watching some anime?" I ask him as I sit on his bed.  
"Wild Tuesday night plans, I see,” he says mockingly.  
“Yeah, well, we are not usually very wild, now are we?” I say as I rest my back against his headboard. Dan arches his eyebrows and smirks.  
“Don’t ever say that out loud again,” he answers as he closes his MacBook and gets up from his bed. "Come on, let’s watch it on the big TV."  
We make our way to the living room and sit on the same spots we've been sitting on for the past five years.  
As we watch the TV I find my mind wandering. The specific cancer that is slowly killing Dan is called Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer Adenocarcinoma and it has been, for the most part, our only topic of conversation this past year. I remember the first couple of months perfectly, though I wish my brain had blocked them. We fought so much during the first days; it is hard to remember it now. When I first found out I was really supportive, told Dan I'd be there every single step of the way and that it was all going to work out alright but I wasn't really aware of what I was promising; I was in a state of denial that prevented me from understanding that my friend was dying. With every visit to the doctor my positive attitude decayed and so did Dan's.   
I realize only when the subtitles become a blur that there are tears streaming down my face. I fake a yawn and dry what I can with the tips of my fingers as discretely as my clumsy hands allow me. I see Dan looking through the side of his eyes towards my direction so I excuse myself and head towards the bathroom. I inhale and exhale– once, twice, I do it until the knot down my throat is gone. This is something that has happened before. I sigh and wash my face trying to get rid of the red patches on my cheeks but my eyes are swollen enough for him to notice so I sit on the floor and wait for my face to return to its normal state. I can hear my steady breathing now that I’m calm and it troubles me knowing that Dan’s breathing will never be steady anymore. I dismiss the thought before I start crying again. I wonder what would be different if Dan wasn’t sick. We were incredibly happy— the years before he got ill had been the best for both of us, we went to Japan, we published two books, we hosted awards and events, we went on tour, we created a gaming channel, we had never been happier and then one day it was all over. As the days passed, Dan slowly became too ill to film and I was often too busy taking care of him, there wasn’t much I could talk about in videos anyway. The first couple of months our subscribers were incredibly supportive, they made trending topics, commented in all our recent videos, tweeted us, all of them telling us how this would be over soon and that they’d be with us till the end, but 11 months later I have lost around 250,000 subscribers and Dan has lost around 170,000. I don’t blame them though, not all of them care about us enough to stay with Dan and I through this rough patch.   
I stand up and open the door only to find Dan sitting in front of the door across the hallway.  


**Dan**

It’s not the first time that this happens, lately it happens quite often. Phil is always crying and it kills me that I’m the reason why. I sit across the door and wait for his breathing to steady; Phil’s regular breathing always makes me feel better. I have to convince him to get out of here before my illness finally drives him insane. I need him to leave, to get away from all this mess. I’m looking at my hands when I hear the door open.  
“Dan, what are you doing there?” He asks as he offers his hand as support to get up.  
“Well, I paused the show but you’ve been in here for forever so I figured you weren’t actually peeing... and then I heard you crying,” I reply as I take his hand and pull it dragging him down with me. “Phil, I know I’ve told you this before, and I know how you are going to react but honestly, if this is too much for you I can stay at my parents’, they are here almost all the time anyways.” I say looking down at my hands again.  
“Dan, stop it already, alright?” He replies.  
I can feel him staring at me, so intensely I have to look up.  
“But Phil, the last thing I want is for you to be in pain or whatever, I just don’t want to see you like this, so br– anyway, I think you should get some time to relax and maybe film some videos or something,” I say as I fake a smile. He’s probably going to see right through it.  
“Oh Dan, I get that you need to get out of here from time to time, how about we go visit my grandparents? We always go there when we need to escape, I’ll call doctor Michigan, I’m sure he’s going to be okay with it, just give me a sec,” he says as he stands up.  
He offers me his hand once again, I grab it and hang to his shoulder with my other hand, I gasp as I stand up, Phil moves his free hand towards my ribcage and holds me, we stay like that a couple of seconds until I catch my breath. I look down at him and he smiles.  
“I’ll be right back, we should start planning everything tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Phil**

I head towards my room, where I last left my phone, in order to call the doctor. Maybe a break away from London will help both of us. I know Dan worries about me, and I don’t make it any easier by crying constantly, but he tries to keep the balance by being mostly neutral, like just now. He always does that. Interrupts his train of thought and continues with something that doesn’t involve touchy-feely words. I grab my phone and call Doctor Michigan.  
“Hello?” The lovely Scottish accent again.  
“Oh, hi. I would like to speak to Doctor Michigan, please,” I reply.  
“Of course, just a minute. Who should I say is calling?”  
“Eh, Phil Lester, in regards of one of his patients– Daniel Howell,” I answer, “We’ve just been there a couple hours ago, actually.”  
“Oh, right, of course, just a moment Phil,” she really does have a lovely accent. I wait for 40 seconds before a new voice answers the phone.  
“Doctor Michigan here,” he sounds like he is in a hurry. I suddenly remember how I acted the last time I saw him, perhaps calling him today wasn’t the greatest idea…  
“Doctor, hi, it’s me, Phil, I would like to apologize for how I reacted today, I guess I was expecting better news, but it still doesn’t justify my lack of manners. Dan and I will see you this Friday—” I can’t get to the trip part because he interrupts me.  
“Yes, Phil, do not worry about any of it. You were actually pretty calm compared to some other encounters I’ve had. Was that all?” He rushes through his words so I try to do the same.  
“No, I was thinking about taking Dan outside the city, to my grandparents’ in the North. Just wondering if there would be any trouble with that.”  
“Actually, I think that’d be great for Dan. On Friday we can schedule for the surgery.”  
“Of course. Thanks Doctor Michigan, we’ll see you then.”  
“See you,” he hangs up and in that moment I realize I could’ve just asked him about it on Friday.

**Dan**

Phil leaves, and heads towards his room almost sprinting. I sigh once I know he’s too far away to hear me. I love Phil, truly, I do, but it’s gotten to the point where are I cannot look at his face without feeling guilty for the pain I’m causing him. When I told him that he needed a break, I did not mean a break with me, I meant a break _from_ me, but these days it is impossible to spend more than 10 minutes without him looking worryingly at me or finding new creative and inventive ways of asking me how I’m feeling, unless he’s hiding and crying, of course.   
I’m walking towards the kitchen and I can feel the fire spreading in my chest. I try to maintain my breathing steady but it’s like trying to sneeze with my eyes open. I let out another frustrated sigh. I make my way to the fridge and grab the Ribena so I can make myself a drink. Lately I’m thirsty all the time.  
“I just called Doctor Michigan, only to realize we could’ve asked him on Friday,” I turn around to see Phil standing no further than two steps away from me staring at my weak figure with wide worried eyes. I fake a laugh, maybe that’ll help.  
“Oh, Phil. Well, did you at least apologize to the poor guy?” I say as I turn around and pour the Ribena onto a glass.  
“I did, he said he’d had worse.”  
“I guess I can see that.”  
“Are you hungry? Do you want to order some take out?” He is again right by my side.  
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry, I just wanted something to drink,” I reply realizing he’s done it again. Ever since I started my treatment, I barely eat but it is only when I am truly feeling shitty that I don’t even try, and Phil knows that.  
“Oh okay, well do you want to finish the episode I so rudely interrupted or…”  
“That’s okay, I think I’m going to get some sleep, going to the hospital always leaves me exhausted.”  


“Oh, that’s alright then, I’ll catch up on some of my house renovation shows,” Phil says smiling.  
“Brilliant, I can crash on the couch, maybe I’ll dream about color palettes and feature walls.”

**Phil**

Dan’s head is resting on my lap, his brown curls tangled in each other. He must really be exhausted cause he also slept on the way to the hospital, but I guess it makes sense given that he barely gets any rest during the night. I look at his cheekbones and I feel a pinch of guilt for not trying harder to convince him to eat something. The skin on his faces stretches closely to his bones and it hurts seeing him like that. I trace the freckles in his face with my index finger, creating inexistent constellations, I look at every one of his features and I try to memorize them, to burn them into my brain. The way his eyelashes form shadows across his cheeks, the straight line that is his nose, his cupid’s bow, his soft chin; I study him the way I like to study art, I don’t try to understand him or give my feelings for him a single meaning, I just admire him and love him.

**Dan**

I wake up early in the morning, around 8 A.M. tangled in my sheets. I was so tired I had no dreams, and that alone puts me in a brilliant mood. I get up and walk towards the window, I look outside for the first time in months and everything looks just like the last time I bothered to peer out. The world kept going even though I wasn’t there to witness it and that thought alone makes my stomach sink. Lately there’s always a vortex in the pit of my stomach, sucking in my thoughts and my feelings, sucking me whole.  
I make my way to the living room wondering if Phil’s already up and of course he is. Somehow he is always awake whenever I’m awake. I don’t know how he does it.  
“Good morning, Dan,” he says with a big smile on his face like I walked in holding the thing he wanted the most.  
“Hey,” I reply trying to copy his smile.  
“So I was thinking, since you didn’t have dinner last night maybe we could have a big breakfast, we could order from that place you love—”  
His words are left hanging in the air because I suddenly start coughing. I begin to feel an unbearable pain in my chest, like it’s on fire but also like it’s filling with water. I’m coughing and my sight has gone blurry, I can hear Phil yelling my name, I can feel his arm around my waist but I can’t stop coughing. I feel a warm liquid on the hand that I’m using to cover my mouth and I lose it. I look at it and it’s a blurry red mess. Somehow we’ve made it downstairs and I hear Phil closing our main door behind me.  
“It’s okay Dan, it’s alright, the Uber is just around the corner. It’s okay, it’s okay,” I can hear Phil’s voice close to my face and I can feel his arm firmly wrapped around my waist but my eyesight is still blurry. I try to blink the tears away but more come out. I shake my head and I try to inhale as much air as possible but my chest is still burning and I feel like I’m about to collapse.

**Phil**

The Uber finally arrives after what felt like the longest two minutes in the world. I hurry to the car with Dan wrapped in between my arms. The driver opens the door and I carefully help Dan inside. He is gasping for air and crying and I am freaking out. I run to the other side of the car, open the door, get in and yell to the 20-year-old boy to hurry up. I get on the phone and rush the words as I try to explain to Doctor Michigan the situation. We finally arrive to the hospital, and thankfully the doctor has sent an emergency team to receive us. They quickly put Dan on a gurney and run towards the entrance. I follow and I try to understand what they are mumbling and what they are giving Dan but all I can think is that he is in pain. I follow them until they tell me that I have to stay behind. I protest.   
“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? I WON’T LEAVE HIM ALONE. HE NEEDS ME. I NEED HIM. YOU NEED TO LET ME IN. RIGHT. NOW.” I’m screaming. I’m yelling so loud I’m pretty sure the entire hospital can hear me and I don’t care.  
“Sir, please let go of my arm. You need to stay here if you want us to help him,” a woman says.  
I realize only then that I’m squeezing her elbow in between my fingers. I let go like all of a sudden her arm is on fire.  
“I’m sorry,” I step away from her and stare at her hair as they take Dan away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Phil**

It’s been an hour and I still haven’t heard news from Dan but of course I have already googled all that I remembered. I encountered quite a few results. I got to the conclusion that the one that made the most sense was that Dan’s chest had filled with “liquid”. A classic symptom of lung cancer as the webpage described it. I went through so many results my head is spinning and in quite a lot of pain. It’s when I decide to go get some food that I see Doctor Michigan coming out of the crystal doors where I had last seen Dan. His caramel eyes are wide and he is in a blue suit.  
“Hi, Phil,” he greets me with kind eyes and a discrete smile.  
“How is he?” I do not have time for formalities right now.  
“He is okay. You got here just in time. His lung would’ve collapsed had you gotten here a bit later. His chest filled with liquid. It’s normal, when it comes to lung cancer, I’m afraid. I was actually surprised Daniel hadn’t had an episode like this yet. But he is stable now. You can come see him, if you wish,” he points at the lift. “Floor 5, room 507, I believe.”  
I'm so angry and frustrated but also extremely relieved. I feel like my knees are going to give in so I sit back on the chair.  
“Is this going to happen again?” I try to ask with my kindest tone.  
“We’ll give him some drugs to control it, as I said before, it is extremely common for a patient with lung cancer to suffer from episodes like this. The Ranitidine will have to be increased too, of course, we don’t want him to have gastritis too, now do we?” He forces a laugh and I just stare at him. “In any case, I will explain the new treatment with more calm later. I wish Daniel to stay here for a couple of nights for observation. I want to see how the medicine works for him and if it’s the right one for his state. Wouldn’t want to send you fellas home with a nonfunctioning drug, huh?” He chuckles again. “Well, I’ll stop by later. He needs to rest,” he looks at me intently. “I’d say you let him sleep the rest of today and I’ll see you tomorrow first thing in the morning.”  
“What about the new medicine?” I ask with a monotone voice.  
“It’s already been administered to him. I can explain everything right now if you wish so, but I think it would be better to do so when Daniel’s awake,” he looks at me expecting an answer. I just nod. “Well then, until tomorrow,” he says and then he leaves. I stare at him until he goes behind the crystal doors.  
My hands are shaking and a numb feeling has spread down my legs. What did he mean by ‘a bit later’ and how could he casually suggest the possibility of Dan’s lung collapsing? Why would he use the term ‘normal’ when there is absolutely nothing normal about having a malign tumor eating the life out of you? How could he laugh at Dan’s condition? Was it a nervous laugh? Was he trying to make me feel better? Lighten the mood? It clearly didn’t work. What a stupid way to refer to Dan. “Daniel, the guy with an almost collapsed lung and borderline gastritis.” Ha ha ha. Hilarious. 

* * *

The next morning I wake up with a cramped neck and an almost unbearable backache. I look towards the bed where Dan’s chest is slowly rising and falling. I get up and stretch my arms and legs. My back is certainly going to hurt all day. I walk towards the bed and push Dan’s fringe back, away from his forehead. He looks so peaceful, completely unaware of what could’ve happened had we gotten to the hospital ‘a bit later’.   
I grab my phone from the table across the room, it’s 7 A.M. and I have a missed call from Dan’s mom. I called her as soon as the crystal doors closed after Dan and then again after doctor Bitchigan had explained to me what had happened to him and I was able to assure her Dan was stable. She was in America when the incident happened and had booked a flight as soon as I informed her what had happened. I dial her number now and wait. 

**Dan**

I wake up to the sight of Phil pacing and talking quietly on the phone. I assume he's talking with my parents so I close my eyes and pretend I'm still asleep because I want to know what the fuck happened yesterday. I can feel tubes coming out of different parts of my body. I try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that is spreading in my chest. I would tell Phil if it started feeling anything like it felt yesterday, but what I’m feeling now is just an echo of the hell I was in. I can feel the warmth of the sunlight dancing on my face and I turn my head towards the window trying to absorb as much of it as possible. Phil notices.  
“Yeah, I think he just woke up, give me a second,” he says to the person on the phone. “Dan, Dan are you awake?” He whispers very close to my face. I don’t reply. I’m not ready to face his eyes. “Oh, I guess he’s not.” I can feel his hand on my shoulder. “Yes, he looks a lot better,” he traces the dark circles under my eyes with the tips of his fingers, “but he does look tired. No, he slept all night, the doctor asked me not to disturb him. Yes, I did sleep in the room; a nurse came in twice in the night to check on him… No, no he hasn’t come by, he said he would first thing in the morning… Yes, I know, I already texted him but he has not replied. Yes, okay, I’ll see you soon then. Right, sure, take care, bye,” he hangs up and sighs. 

**Phil**

I sit on the couch and stare at Dan. The shadows tracing under his eyes are a deep purple and his lips are so dry they’ve parted in the middle. I can see his heart rate in the IVM machine and it’s steady. That makes me feel better. I unlock my phone and text Doctor Bitchigan. 

__

_Dan’s mom will be here in an hour, please do let me know when you are arriving. I’m sure she’ll want to know about the new medications and all that. Thank you. -Phil L._

I lock my phone and get up again. I rumble through my backpack for change; though one of the tubes connected to Dan’s body is supposed to keep him hydrated the state of his lips makes me think it’s not doing its job properly. I head for the door and towards the pharmacy at the lobby. 

**Dan**

I hear the door close and for a second I wonder if either the doctor or my mom have arrived but when the room is submerged in absolute silence I realize Phil left. I open my eyes again and look around the room. The couch where I’m guessing Phil slept in is smaller than a loveseat and I feel a pinch of guilt in the pit of my stomach. He could’ve gone home, he should’ve.   
I take advantage of the fact that I’m alone to see what they’ve done to me. There are tubes under my nose, and a needle on the inside of my elbow connected to a bag filled with transparent liquid. There is also a bigger tube attached to my side. I feel a burning sensation on the inside of my throat, like somebody stuffed my mouth with shredded glass.   
Yesterday I thought I was going to die, there was no doubt in my mind, and I wasn’t ready. All I could think about was how easily and rapidly everyone would forget me, no trace of my existence left, nothing worth reliving anyway. I feel the crushing fear again; I’ve felt it ever since I found out I had cancer but last night made everything seem more present. I hear my heartbeat race and try to steady it with no success when the door flies open. Phil rushes in with a plastic bag in his hand.  
“Is everything okay?” He’s out of breath.  
“You mean, besides the fact that I almost die last night? Yeah, everything’s tip-top!” I say dripping sarcasm.  
“Not funny Dan, here,” he says handing me the plastic bag, “I got you some Chapstick, your lips look like they are about to fall off.”  
I take the bag and rumble inside to find the Chapstick. There’s also a bag of Haribo in it.  
“I can’t believe I almost died and yet, you still somehow managed to find time to buy snacks, it’s truly an impressive skill, Phil,” I apply the Chapstick and my lips feel relieved.  
“You were out of any immediate danger already and it was next to the register, let me be,” he replies opening the bag of Haribo. 

* * *

Phil and I are watching the small TV on my hospital room, still recovering from the traumatic incident of me almost choking to death. Doctor Michigan's solution was to give me more pills and pump my body with even more substances. My mom just nodded and Phil acted like he already knew, I guess the doctor told him yesterday while I was still unconscious.  
I sent my parents to our flat (after the doctor was done telling them all about the many ways their son is dying) and when my dad protested Phil told him he would stay to keep an eye on me.  
His face is now hidden by his dark hair, but his posture, the way his shoulders slump forward, shows me just how tired he really is. This time it felt like one too many. I'm exhausted too, not only from the near-death experience but because I can't stand seeing Phil like this anymore. He needs a break, just a moment of peace away from the stress and the sorrow. Doctor Michigan changed his mind about the trip and asked that I take it easy so now it’s my chance to convince Phil to go alone to his grandparents'.  
“Hey Phil?”  
“Mm?” He says without taking his eyes off of the T.V.  
“I still think you should go on that trip, you know?”  
“What?” He’s looking at me now.  
“I just feel like we’ve both been under a lot of stress lately,” I say gesturing to the room we are in, “and I know some time away from this,” I continue, pointing at myself this time, “could help.”  
“Are you kidding me? I’m not leaving your side. You are crazy.”  
“No Phil, I’m not crazy, I’m just saying maybe it would be good for you to take a break.”  
“The trip can wait until Doctor Michigan changes his mind, there’s no rush, you know?”  
“Right…”  
Phil’s always been so stubborn, it’s one of his less likeable qualities, it’s going to take an army in order to convince him to go without me now that he’s already made up his mind.  
“Are you going to go home tonight? That sofa really does not look comfortable at all,” I say eyeing the couch where he’s currently sitting. Phil rolls his eyes but doesn’t get the chance to answer because a nurse walks into the room right then.  
“How are we feeling tonight, dear?” She says checking the IV. To this day I still can’t understand why people call me ‘dear’ and ‘honey’, especially now that I am 27, but I guess that’s something nurses call everyone.  
“Good,” I say giving her a polite smile.  
“Well then, just call for me if you need anything, alright?”  
“Of course, Meredith,” I reply looking at the tag on her shirt. She smiles and leaves just as quickly as she came.  
I look at Phil again. “So, are you going home? You really could use a shower.”  
“Stop it, I’m fine.”  
“I bet your neck tends to differ,” I reply.  
“My neck is perfectly okay,” he says frowning.  
“Well it looks crooked to me.”  
“Shut up, you idiot.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Dan**

I wake up to a dark room and for a moment I forget where I am and go into panic mode but then I see Phil and of course he stayed. I try to guess the time since there are no clocks in this bloody room but the curtains are shut and I don’t have my phone at arm’s reach. I stare at the ceiling and wait for my eyes to adjust.  
I never thought this was where my life was headed, actually, I never knew where it was headed but even so, it didn’t cross my mind that my destiny was this. I was never great at envisioning my future, there wasn’t ever a clear path for me, I kind of stumbled my way through life and did what I was told to do, my first big move was dropping out of uni and even then I still didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do. Now, laying here, I can’t decide if I lived a good life, because, of course I did, not many have the luck of finding their soul mate and doing what they love for a job but also, there’s so much I’ll never get to do, so many things I never got to experience, it feels like half of a very good existence, but I guess my luck had to run out at some point.  
I turn my head to look at Phil and he’s pouting, he does that sometimes when he’s asleep, I find it very endearing. My chest tightens at the thought of never seeing him again and I shut my eyes to try and stop the tears. My theory is that I used up all my luck when I met Phil, not everyone has the privilege of having a Phil in their lives, and I suppose the fact that I do threw things out of balance, too much good, the universe was probably not having it and had to fix the scale by taking me out of the equation.

**Phil**

When I wake up Dan’s staring at me, I take my phone out of my pocket to check the time and it’s 5 A.M.  
“It’s barely a couch Phil, it’s a chair disguised as a couch.”  
“What?” I mumble– I’m not entirely awake yet.  
“That thing you sleep in, it doesn’t even deserve to be called a couch.”  
“It’s more comfortable than it looks,” I say smiling.  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Are you just projecting on me? Is your bed that uncomfortable?”  
“Of course it is, it’s a hospital bed for goodness sake.”  
“Do you want me to bring you your pillow from back home?”  
“I’m leaving today though, aren’t I?”  
“Right…”  
“So at what time do I get to leave?”  
“Doctor Michigan said he would come to check on you one last time before you were discharged.”  
He sighs. “What can we do in the meantime?”  
“Maybe you should just go back to sleep,” I stand next to his bed, “you look like you could sleep some more.”  
“Noooooo,” he says in the high-pitched voice he uses whenever he wants to get his way.  
I can’t help but laugh. “Fine, do you want to watch more T.V.?”  
“I think I’ve had enough free-to-view T.V. for a while. See, this is why you should’ve gone home, you could’ve brought some decent entertainment to this hellhole.”  
“We have all the entertainment we need right here,” I say and just as I finish the sentence I realize how that sounds. We both burst into laughter.  
“You’re such a strange person,” Dan says still smiling. He has the prettiest smile in the whole world.  
“I know. It’s cool,” I reply.  
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop smiling and my heart is full.  
“By the way, do you know where my phone is?”  
“Uh, yeah, I left it charging before I went to sleep,” I unplug his phone and hand it to him.  
“Thank you,” he mumbles. 

  


We play on our phones for a good hour before Dan eventually falls asleep again and some time later a nurse comes in with his breakfast.  “Yum,” he says poking the jelly they gave him with a fork.  
“You are supposed to use a spoon, you know?”  
“I think I’m supposed to not eat it.”  
“You haven’t eaten anything, you need to.”  
“I mean, I guess so, but…”  
“Just eat the jelly, Dan,” I interrupt him, “I’ll go see if the Doctor is here yet.”  
I step out of the room and softly close the door. I look around for any nurses until I notice the one that has been checking on Dan the most and try to get her attention.  
“Um, excuse me,” I say trying to catch up to her.  
“Yes?” She turns around and smiles politely. Her black hair is tied into a tight bun at the top of her head but there are random curls poking out in different directions.  
“I was wondering if you could tell me if Doctor Michigan is here already,” I bury my hands in the pockets of my jeans.  
“I haven’t seen him but I’m sure he’ll be in soon, did Daniel get his breakfast already?”  
I’m surprised she memorized his name.  
“Yeah, but he’s not too happy about it,” I reply.  
“Mm, no one likes hospital food, is what I’ve noticed.”  
“Well, I’ll go back to the room to make sure he eats something.”  
“Sure, I’ll be right with you to check on him, just give me a couple of minutes,” she says placing her hand on my shoulder.  
I wonder if it’s the look on my face that prompted her to touch my shoulder comfortingly. “Definitely, no worries.”  
“You’re a great boyfriend,” she says as she starts to walk away.  
“I’m not…” I start saying, but she’s already gone. 

  


Dan’s parents arrive before the Doctor and try to convince him again to move in with them but he’s having none of it, even though he’s told me countless times that that would be best for everyone ‘involved’.  
“Just think about it, okay?” His mom says holding his hand.  
“I’ve already thought about it mum, I’d rather stay in London,” he replies looking down.  
“We just want to be close to you,” his dad steps in.  
“I know and you can stay in our flat as long as you want,” Dan’s eyelashes are creating shadows on his cheekbones.  
His mum looks at me then, almost accusingly but then her look softens. She opens her mouth as if to say something but then there’s a knock on the door and Doctor Michigan walks in.  
“I see the whole family is here,” he says smiling.  
“Hello doctor,” Dan’s father greets him.  
“So how are we today?” He asks as he reaches for the record where the nurses write every time they come in to see Dan.  
“The same… okay…” Dan says looking at him.  
“Okay is good,” the doctor replies without taking his eyes off the paper.  
“Does that mean I can go home today?” My friend’s eyes are big and serious.  
“I don’t see why not, you’ve had a good recuperation and the new medicine seems to be working. I want you to come back to see me in two weeks, okay?”  
“Okay.”  
“Brilliant, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get your discharge papers ready.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Dan**

When we get home, the smell of it is weirdly comforting, so I try to take a deep breath. There’s really not a word to describe the way our house smells, I guess it smells like us and warmth and sugar.  
Phil’s shoulder and mine are touching and I lean a little into him, we do this all the time, it’s a small gesture but it’s also a very comforting one. My parents are currently getting us lunch, they’re staying with us for the rest of the week after I convinced them to do so rather than take me with them. I don’t know why I did that; I suppose I’m just too selfish to choose Phil’s sanity over mine.  
“Phil?” I say.  
“Yeah?”  
“Thank you.”  
“For what?”  
“For staying. Not just this time, but for always staying.”  
He smiles at that. “Come on, let’s set the table.”  
My parents arrive with the food and we eat like a normal healthy family. We chat for hours like there’s no darkness hidden deep in our hearts and laugh. Stories and anecdotes are exchanged and the flat is filled with a new light. Eventually, we move to the living room and play some board games, Phil let’s me win almost every time and I’d be mad if he didn’t use to do that sometimes even when I wasn’t sick. Around 10 P.M. my parents are done for the day and announce that they’re going to bed but Phil and I stay on the sofa and watch the latest episode of a dumb T.V. show that neither of us actually enjoys but for some reason can’t stop watching. When the last scene comes to an end I take in some air and try again.  
"Phil?"  
"Mm…yeah?" He says turning his head to look at me. His eyes are heavy and his voice sounds raspy.  
"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't realize you were sleeping."  
"That's alright, I'm just a little bit tired," he replies looking down at his phone, "oh my God, is it only 11? Woah, I guess I’m more tired than I thought. I think I should go to bed," he continues, rubbing his eyes.  
"Oh, okay."  
"Did you need something?"  
"No, not really, I just wanted to talk about that visit to your grandparents, I still think that you should go. Honestly, I think even if Doctor Michigan allowed me to travel, I'd rather stay home," I reply in a tiny voice looking, past Phil, at the windows behind the TV.  
"What do you mean? Why?"  
"I think you need a break, Phil.”  
“Well, so do you Dan. Like I already told you, the trip can wait until you feel better,” he gives me a little smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.  
“Even then, I just need some rest and I don't think a long train ride is the way to go."  
“But you love train journeys... What's this really about, Dan?”  
“There’s nothing else to it Phil, I just don't want to go.”  
“Look, how about we both go to bed and you sleep on it? We can talk about it tomorrow,” he stands up and raises his arms, stretching his back, the shirt he’s wearing slides slightly upwards.  
There's no point in arguing right now and keeping him from getting the sleep he needs so badly so I give in.  
"Yeah, you are right. See you tomorrow," I say.  
_But how can I sleep on it if I never actually get any sleep_ , I think to myself. It’s been a while since I’ve had dreams; usually my nights are brimming with endless nightmares, all of them surrounding the idea of oblivion, of leaving Phil alone, of the nothingness. A long time ago I decided that I'd rather stay awake than go through that, now I just wait to be exhausted enough to sleep through it all.  
I stare at Phil as he leaves me alone in the living room and mentally prepare for another sleepless night.

**Phil**

Spending the weekend with his parents really seemed to cheer Dan up and I wonder if it would indeed be better if he moved back in with them, but how could us being apart bring any good? Dan seems to think that it would, he’s been suggesting non-stop that I go visit my family up north by myself and honestly I’ve grown tired of contradicting him. He’s currently hugging his mom goodbye, his dad’s already loading their stuff into the trunk of the cab that’s going to drive them to the train station.  
“We’ll come back soon, okay? Call us if you need anything,” his mum says in a very serious tone.  
“Sure mum, have a safe drive.”  
“Phil, take care of him and call us if anything happens, alright?” She tells me before hugging me.  
“Absolutely,” I reply.  
Dan and I stand on the doorway looking at the car as it drives away. There’s an uncomfortable feeling in the atmosphere, the blue above us seems infinite and slightly suffocating, like it’s been painted on to trap us here.  
“Ready to go inside?” I ask Dan.  
“Yeah,” he says turning around. 

  


During the rest of the week his mood changes constantly and drastically, he keeps bringing up the trip and by Friday I cave in. When I suggested the visit to my family up north, I was counting on Dan coming with me, but every time I try to persuade him to do so he either ignores me, or storms out.  
I spend the following week calling my family and arranging everything, I’ve given up on trying to convince him for now because I don’t want to upset him but I’m hoping he’ll change his mind last minute. It’s been two weeks since I had to rush him to the hospital and he is definitely looking a lot better but he has refused to leave the flat. All week we’ve ordered takeout and the one time we went out was for his appointment with Doctor Michigan.  
He is currently sitting at his desk playing on his PC purposefully ignoring me but if I don’t leave now I’m going to lose my train so I walk towards him and try one last time.  
"Are you sure you don't want to come with me, Dan?" He doesn’t even turn around. "I don’t really want to leave you alone."  
"Phil,” he says rolling his eyes, “I've stayed home alone thousands of times, I'll be just fine."  
"No, I mean, I know that, but… don't you want to see Martyn? He misses you."  
"Seriously, I don’t want to go,” he says finally turning around to look at me, “I’m dying and I really don’t wish to waste my last days with your family. I never really loved going, anyway."  
Something catches in my throat. “These won’t be your last days,” I mumble.  
He sighs, “you know what I mean.”  
“Please?” I ask. “We can return whenever you feel like it, just come with me.”  
“I. Don’t. Want. To. I already told you I never actually liked going.”  
"Probably should’ve mentioned that a couple years ago,” I reply and force an awkward laugh.  
“I’m not joking Phil, just please, get off my back. I’ll be fine,” Dan says as he gets up and heads towards his bedroom.  
I stay still. Was he for real? I walk towards his room only to find the door shut. I feel lost trying to understand why he’s acting this way all of a sudden.  
“Fine Dan, I’ll leave now. I just want to say goodbye,” I say to the door expecting him to open it but he doesn’t even make a noise. _He’s not even going to say goodbye?_ “Well then, I’ll see you in a week, I guess. Just call me if you need anything, all right? I’ll have my phone with me 24/7... obviously.”  
I try to fake a laugh but nothing comes out and there is no response from him either so I just head towards the main door. I mentally go through everything I need to take with me and then realize that Dan isn’t coming so all I have to worry about is underwear and chargers. I grab my small suitcase, open the door and wait –just a moment– in case Dan changes his mind or at least wants to say goodbye but he doesn’t come so I step out and shut the door. I head down the stairs as slowly as I can, hoping that Dan will eventually come down but the cabbie is already waiting for me so I sigh and hope that he’s still home, waiting for me, when I return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thank you so much for reading my work this far, I appreciate it infinitely. Just thought I'd leave a small note telling you to prepare for a lot of Dan's mind in the following chapters, hopefully that's okay with you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dan**

The house is painfully quiet without Phil, he's only been gone for a day but everything seems duller already. It's also harder to remember that I have basic needs such as eating and staying hydrated, I can't even remember the last time I ate a proper meal. I make my way into the kitchen and look inside the fridge; I find pizza leftovers and pour myself some Ribena. This is obviously not the first time I'm home alone, yet it feels more dooming this time. I feel sad and alone (more so than usual, that is). It's too quiet, makes it easier to hear my unsteady breaths.  
I head for the living room and turn on the TV, trying to find something that I'm not currently watching with Phil, and go for Modern Family, as it always puts me in a good mood. My mom called earlier and said her and dad would stop by tomorrow, so I just have to survive tonight and then everything's going to be all right.  
At least Phil is having a good time, which is really all that matters. The guilt of seeing him so decayed was eating me alive, plus keeping him prisoner here was borderline nefarious. I’m positive he hates me right now, the last time we were together wasn’t pleasant at all and I haven’t called him since he left.  
Last time he was here, he asked me one last time to go with him and used his brother to try and convince me but I ran away from him like a coward. I escaped to my bedroom and locked the door. _Why is Phil making this so difficult for me?_ Was all I could think in that very moment. I wasn’t doing this only for him, I’m not that selfless, I needed a break from his face too, it was literally dripping with pity, and every day his expression just kept getting worse. I couldn’t handle it anymore. On that day I fell onto my bed trying to regularize the seconds in between each inhalation and exhalation, expecting him to just leave but of course he followed me and tried to get me to say goodbye, why wouldn’t he?  
“Fine Dan, I’ll leave now. I just want to say goodbye,” I heard him say through the door. I sighed and stayed still.  
“Well then, I’ll see you in a week, just call me if you need anything, alright? I’ll have my phone with me 24/7… obviously.”  
An involuntary smile formed on my face then. I felt bad for making Phil feel like this, not only had I ruined his life, our lives, by getting cancer (he would kill me if he knew this was my mentality) but also now I was acting ungrateful. I didn’t care though, it was what was best for both of us, at least that’s what I thought at the time. I waited and hoped he didn’t say anything more because I knew I would cave in and he didn’t. When I heard the front door open I sighed in relief, but almost immediately I also felt a pinch of guilt in the pit of my stomach. Of course Phil was terrified of what he would find once he came back to London, maybe it would be me dying on the staircase, maybe I’d be choking in the living room, maybe it would be my corpse on top of my bed; the least I could do was give him a proper goodbye and yet, all I had done was run and hide from him like I was a rebellious teenager hiding from their parents. I got up not too long after I heard the door shut and hoped that I could still say goodbye, I wouldn’t want to die without having a proper going away scene with my best friend, so I walked as fast as I could, and went down the stairs as fast as I could, but when I opened the door to the main entrance all I got to see was Phil’s cab driving away. 

  


The TV is not nearly loud enough to drown my pessimistic thoughts; I look around the room until my eyes focus on the white piano. The one perk of cancer– more time to practice: without videos to write and film, live shows to do, meetings to attend and merch to design, I have a lot of free time… too much free time. I sit on the stool and lightly stroke the keys. I start playing, first a song that I’ve been practicing for the past month and then I add something of my own and then I begin another song. I play and play until everything goes away, until the only thing my brain can focus on are my fingers creating music. I feel the rhythm in my bones and close my eyes, music has always made everything better, even when I was a depressed teenager stuck in a tiny dark world.  
I stop playing when my brain betrays me and forces the image of Phil, sat on the floor next to me, his head resting on his hand, looking up and watching me play. “ARH! Even when he is not here, he is all I think about. Bloody fantastic!” I get up and throw most of the pizza leftovers in the bin.  
I can’t remember my life before Phil… Okay, that’s a lie, a big one, actually. My life before Phil was horrific. I never had a best friend, not like Phil anyway, and I was miserable. I was insecure about my physical appearance, I would go days without eating, and it wasn’t anything like now. Before it was a challenge, now I can’t eat even if I really tried. I hated my life, the place I lived in, the economic status of my family and myself. It was more than often miserable. And then, I found his videos. I remember thinking that he was wonderfully unique and more creative than anyone I had ever met. He inspired me to be a better me, and then, for some miraculous reason, maybe life finally giving me a break, he liked me too. I remember the very first time we met in person, the feeling I got in my stomach when I saw him standing there, by himself, waiting for me at the train station. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I saw him before he saw me. He looked so awkward standing there by himself, and he stood out. Not only because he is quite a tall man (he was taller than me back then), but everything about him was special, distinct. And then we made eye contact. It was an exceptionally cheesy moment, we hugged and I didn’t want to let go but I also didn’t want to make things awkward so I was about to remove my arms but then I realized that he didn’t want to let go either. We stayed there for what felt like 2 seconds but was probably closer to 20. I buried my head in his shoulder and felt safe for the first time in a long while.  
“I can’t believe you’re actually real,” I said once I forced myself to untangle my arms from him.  
“I can’t believe you’re not a 47 year old man,” he said smiling. I like to call that particular smile, my smile because he never does it with anyone else.  
“Phil, we Skyped before,” I replied rolling my eyes, “a lot.” My chest felt like it was exploding and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.  
“I guess I thought you were too good to be true.”  
“I was thinking exactly that, as well.”  
And then we explored the world, well, not necessarily the world (close enough) but I didn’t need to as long as he was there cause he made every single place more exciting, funny and special.

**Phil**

“I’m telling you it was a mistake coming here without him! The whole point of this trip was for him to get distracted for a couple days.” I’ve been saying something along those lines ever since I got in the cab and everyone is tired of me– the cab driver, the person that sat next to me during the train ride and my entire family. So much my mom cooked me pancakes to try and shut me up but they’ve gone cold because I can’t stop worrying about Dan.  
“Phil, if you are so worried why don’t you just call him?” My dad says before he takes another bite of his omelet. This was probably the 20th time someone had suggested I call Dan but I’m not sure that’s what he wants.  
“Because, I don’t know if he’s angry at me and I don’t want to stress him out. He already has it hard enough, I don’t need to upset him even more,” I say standing up. I start pacing and biting my nails. There are no nails left to bite but I can’t stop.  
“Bro, come on, this is Dan we are talking about, he won’t be upset if you call him,” Martyn says giving me a reassuring smile.  
“But you can’t know that! He wouldn’t even say goodbye! Plus, if he wanted to talk he would’ve called me already,” I reply raising my arms into the air, “but what if he can’t call because he’s had another episode? What if he needs to go to the hospital? What if he is… not okay?” I run my left hand through my hair pushing it further back and grab my phone with my free hand. “I’m just going to call him.”  
“Finally,” I hear my mom say.  
Somebody would’ve probably called me if Dan had indeed ended up in the hospital again but I know I won’t be able to breathe until I hear his voice. I go through my favorites on my phone, press Dan’s name and wait.  
“’Ello?”  
“Dan?”  
“Is everything okay, Phil?”  
“Uh yeah, I was going to ask you the same thing,” it feels so good to hear his voice; I can’t help the smile that forms on my face.  
“Everything’s marvelous,” he says.  
“Oh, well that’s–” he interrupts me before I can finish.  
“Except that I miss you. Is that lame? I mean, you’ve only been gone for a day but I can’t watch any TV shows cause you are not here and I’ve already finished playing every videogame I own.”  
I chuckle, “I miss you too, Dan.”  
“It’s definitely lame.”  
“Isn’t that like part of our branding, though? Being lame.”  
“I thought it was being clumsy.”  
“No, that’s just mine, even though you are just as clumsy, let’s be honest.”  
“Are you kidding me? You once broke a bowl that exploded throughout out entire house. There were pieces in the laundry machine, Phil!”  
“Fine! Then what’s our joint branding?”  
“Nerds that never go outside?”  
“I think that’s pretty lame.”  
“Well it is, but we don’t go around saying that we are lame, we go around saying that we don’t like the outside.”  
“I don’t go around saying much anymore.”  
“I’m sorry, Phil…”  
“No, I didn’t mean it like that but I was just wondering, when was the last time either of us used our social media?”  
“I think I did a tumblr queue about… three months ago?”  
“Maybe I should tweet something funny, what should I tweet?”  
“Your dog joke.”  
“I thought you hated it.”  
“I do but maybe your followers will like it.”  
“I’m pretty sure I’ve told it more than twice already.”  
“That’s never stopped you before from entertaining your followers.”  
“Yeah, the two followers I have left, you and probably someone that hasn’t used their account since 2010.”  
“Who says I’m still following you?”  
“Wow Dan, that’s a low blow.”  
“So when are you coming back?”  
“I can come back whenever, I could be there tomorrow if I you want me to.”  
“No, don’t worry, my parents are coming tomorrow.”  
“Ah, that’s great, I’m glad, what about your brother?”  
“He’s stuck doing some work so nope.”  
“My brother says hi, by the way.”  
“Does your family hate me for not going?”  
“Not at all, they all miss you though.” 

  


We talk for hours about nothing important and it feels like the old times. With Dan it’s always been as easy as breathing. The conversation topics just flow, even after being apart only for hours there’s always something to talk about, and even when there isn’t, there are never awkward silences.


	7. Chapter 7

**Dan**

“Mom, would you stop pacing around already?” She’s been walking all around the flat ever since her and my dad got here, whispering under her breath. Her clothes look spent and the paint from her shoes is starting to peel. I didn't notice last time she was here. “Where are the shoes I got you?”  
“What? Oh, Daniel those things are far too fancy for me. They look expensive.”  
“Well, they were, what’s wrong with that?”  
“I just don’t feel comfortable wearing them, it’s not me.”  
“And those raggedy shoes are?”  
“Oh blimey, yes.” They were. I hadn’t grown up ‘poor’ but we weren’t wealthy either. We couldn’t afford to buy luxuries like expensive clothes or… brand shampoo.  
“You could at least get a newer version of those. You want to go to the shopping center?”  
“What? No! You can’t go out! You need rest, Daniel! You almost d–“  
“Muuuuuum,” I look at the floor, “please don’t.”  
“Right, I apologize.”  
“Why are you so fidgety today?”  
“You know London makes me feel uneasy, it’s so big and crowded.”  
“That’s supposed to be a good thing mum,” I cackle and grab her gently by the elbow. “It’s alright, come on, we can watch a movie if you don’t want to go outside.”  
My dad is already sat in front of the TV flipping through the channels.  
“Can you believe the amount of channels that exist? It’s impossible,” he says not removing his eyes from the TV.  
“Well it clearly isn’t, dad.”  
“Can you imagine growing up with all of these possibilities?”  
“BBC1 wasn’t that bad.”  
“I’m not saying it was but, God, what I would’ve done to have these amount of channels at my please.” 

 

We watch a police/mystery TV show that I had already finished with Phil and everything is all right until my mum turns around and stares at me for a good 15 seconds. I keep my eyes glued to the TV and wish her thoughts away but she goes ahead and asks, one of the questions that I hate the most, anyway.  
“What’s wrong Daniel?”  
“Nothing mum, what are you on about?”  
“Look, cut it out. You are doing that thing you used to do when you were younger where you never talk about your feelings to anyone. It’s okay to discuss your problems with the people that care about you, you know?”  
“Yeah, I’m aware of that now, mum. Took me a while though.”  
“Well then, go ahead. Do enlighten me. Why do you look sadder than usual?”  
“I don’t look sad usually…”  
“Well, you do right now.”  
“Might be the fact that I have cancer, I suppose. Isn’t that reason enough?”  
“Daniel, care for the way you talk to your mother,” my dad cuts in.  
“Sorry dad,” I sigh and pause the TV show expecting the worst.  
“So, have you discovered any new good music lately? Because I’ve got some to show you,” he pulls his phone out and I smile relieved that I’m not being pressured to talk about my feelings anymore. If I were to mention the fact that I miss Phil even though he’s been gone only for a day they would look at me the way they always do. And then they would ask me what they always ask me and I would have to crawl inside my skin because I don’t have it in me to explain myself one more time. 

 

It’s one in the morning and I haven’t managed to doze off. My parents are sound asleep in the guest bedroom and I keep turning in my bed. I haven’t been getting any sleep lately, especially because whenever I actually manage to fall asleep, I’m brutally attacked by bad dreams. I’ve been thinking about the nightmares, how maybe it’s my brain telling me to prepare for the worst. To get everything ready so I don’t leave any trouble or unfinished business behind. I’ve written a list of all the things I want to do before I die, so far, I haven’t checked out a thing. I’ve been too wrapped up in self-pity to actually care about anything or anyone other than myself. It’s mind-numbing being this ill. It dries you up from the inside, turns you into a living carcass. I’d read about depression, I’d seen it represented in movies, and I’d been accused of being depressed on numerous occasions. I do believe that at some point of my life I was, but it was never like this. This time it’s life destroying. The side effect of cancer no one warns you about. And it’s not only about how it affects _me_ , because seeing how it affects the people that are hopelessly and irrevocably attached to my life, makes everything worse. 

 

I open my eyes and try to focus them; outside my window there are bright lights hanging against the black canvas reminding me how miniscule I am. I’m sweating profusely and suddenly it all comes back to me. Tears start streaming down my face as I recall the events in my dream. I was sat in a dark room staring at what looked like an everyday scene, Phil eating my cereal while watching T.V., I stood there with my arms crossed and just looked at him. He was laughing at something one of the characters said, he was still holding the spoon when this happened and milk splattered all over his lap, I decided then to walk towards him to mock how clumsy he was but once I was one step away I fell back. I shook my head and got up giving it another try but the same thing happened, the next time when I got up I ran towards Phil but the punch back was even harder and I fell back further. I was on the floor and Phil was still laughing, spilling cereal milk everywhere. I tried slowly again and I felt it then, a thick glass wall right in the middle of the living room. I searched the room, trying to find my way around it but there was none. I was stuck in this side of the room and there was nothing I could do. 

* * *

“You miss Phil, don’t you?” My mum takes me out of my trance.  
“Pardon me?” I say still not looking at her.  
“You haven’t even touched your toast, it’s gone cold.”  
“I’m sorry mum, I’m not really hungry.”  
“You need to eat, Dan. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”  
I take a bite to make her happy, lately I’m always trying to make other people happy.  
“So are you going to admit it?” She says looking intently at me.  
I sigh, “admit what?”  
“That you miss him.”  
“’Course I do, he’s my best friend.”  
“You see him everyday.”  
“Exactly.”  
“He’ll be back this Monday though, won’t he? Less than a week now.”  
“Yup.”  
“Do you love him?”  
“What?”  
“I wish you would talk to me.”  
“I am.”  
“You know what I mean.”  
“I know, I’m sorry.”  
She gets up then and puts her hand against my face before taking her plate off the table and walking away.  
I feel guilty, I’m always treating everyone like shit but it’s not like I have the answers they want. I never do. I’m a constant disappointment to everyone around me and to myself. I want to make it up to her but there’s not much I can do and she hates loud crowds, I need to find something where we can just sit down and chill.  
I go online and miraculously find theater tickets to see my favorite play tonight, the seats are pretty bad but at least they’re sort of in the middle and I’ve seen the play plenty of times anyway. I enter my card info and purchase three tickets for The Book of Mormon.

 

“What do you mean the lift is broken?” The manager has already answered this about 15 times but my mum is still in denial.  
“I’m truly sorry ma’am, we had a voltage problem early this morning, and the company hasn’t been able to repair it yet.”  
“It’s okay mum,” I say.  
My lungs got even more fucked up after they filled up with liquid, I lose my breath more easily but _surely_ I can go up a couple flights of stairs.  
“There must be another way up,” my mum is not one to give up easily.  
“I’m afraid there isn’t.” The manager is actually sweating, there are fat drops falling from his forehead. He doesn’t even know why I can’t go up the stairs, I wonder what his theories are so far, maybe he figured I must be dying for someone to be so upset about a broken lift or maybe he thinks we are all just passionately lazy.  
“What if he was in a wheelchair? Does this theater not care about accessibility at all?”  
“Mum,” I grab her elbow softly, turning her to see me, “it’s fine. Please, let’s just go in.”  
“But Dan…” She begins but is interrupted by my dad.  
“It’s up to you Dan, if you tell us you can do it then let’s get in, if you’d rather not, we can just go home.”  
I sigh in relief, “I’m alright, let’s go.”  
I walk towards the first flight of stairs and take in a deep breath, about halfway I realize I’m not alright.  
“All good?” My dad asks placing his hand between my shoulder blades.  
“Yup,” I reply going up another step. There’s not enough air to fill my lungs, I shake my head slightly and inhale again, and it’s a bit better.  
“Dan, you don’t have to do this,” I don’t look at my mum as she says this, I know she’s going to be wearing Phil’s ultimate expression of worry and pain.  
“I do this everyday mum, there are stairs in my place.”  
Last time I went up the stairs was when Phil and I came back from my appointment with Doctor Michigan and it took forever, Phil saw right through me and realized I was suffering so every few steps he touched my shoulder or my elbow or the small of my back and talked to me about whatever stupid random thing occurred to him in that very moment. It took forever to get to the flat but at least it was less exhausting. And we high-fived at the end.  
My chest, my throat, everything inside me seems to be on fire by the time I make it to the first floor, where the stalls are. Now I just gotta climb my way up to my seat, my thoughts are swirling inside my head making my eyesight blurry. I close my eyes and count to ten, if Phil were here I’d just focus on his steady breathing, I would try to match mine to his and he’d know exactly what to say to make me feel better. _“I love this pace, makes it less possible for me to fall on my face.” “I’m pretty sure that old lady is checking you out, her husband’s not too happy about it, good thing you have a getaway card for situations like this.” “If every place started putting slides instead of stairs like I’ve suggested on multiple occasions this wouldn’t be happening.”_ Of course going up a slide would be even harder but Phil never thinks about that. When I open my eyes half the theater is staring at me and whispering to each other, which angers me more than it should. I huff and go as fast as I can, I take two steps at a time. It feels like my throat is closing up and I can’t go anymore like that, I look around and it feels like I’m the sole focus of every single person in this room, the murmur has grown louder, some people have stopped giving a fuck and are pointing directly at me. I look at the floor and put all my energy into making it those last steps. When I purchased these tickets I knew the sits were awful, I mean we are right next to the sound box for goodness sakes but it never crossed my mind that the stairs would be an issue because I’m a bloody moron. 

 

The play was great, as usual, and the way down the stairs wasn’t nearly as bad as the way up but I was still panting when I reached the last step. The entire way back to the flat I just kept thinking about the people that were staring at me and whispering, like I wasn’t even there. Is that what it’s going to be like when I die? Am I going to have to endure listening to people talk about me with pity until the world eventually forgets about me?  
My dad insists on going to a nice restaurant to get dinner but there’s not a single fiber in my being that wants to go outside anymore. I tell them so and they understand but they also seem sad so I try to convince them to go by themselves.  
“We came here with be with you, sweetie,” my mum says.  
“It’s just dinner, you know?” I reply half smiling.  
“Why don’t you come with us?” My dad says stepping in.  
“I’m really tired,” and I’m not lying, I’m feeling deader than usual.  
“Are you sure?” My mum’s biting her lip like she’s asking me to do something unspeakable.  
“Have fun.” I say pushing them out the door.  
I stare at the empty apartment and my heart feels heavy. How long can a freaking week be?  
It’s late enough for a normal person to go to bed, 11 P.M. but definitely way too early for me. I head towards my room anyway and lay on top of my covers. I just stare at the ceiling waiting for the exhaustion to wash over me and drown me so deep I can’t dream.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's tiny cause otherwise it would've been absolutely huge, so i've decided to divide it in small parts. Hope that's alright.

**Dan**

I get up before my parent’s do, they don’t have Phil’s ability of waking up before me every single time. I get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I stand in front of the mirror and stare at my reflection but fail to recognize the person staring back, it’s like every trace of emotion has left my face, shadows drag across all over, under my eyes, around my chin, below my cheekbones and my hair has gotten longer than I’d usually wear it, the curls are frizzy and messy but also thinner… this is the face that Phil has to endure every single day. I decide it’s time for me to take a long shower, sort myself out, it’s not like I could ever get a full beard but I do need to shave every couple of weeks and I haven’t done so since I was rushed into the hospital. I open the tab and step into the shower but the warm water feels so nice I decide to take a bath, Phil hates baths because he doesn’t really fit, he says either his knees are freezing or his shoulders, but I don’t mind.  I’m tense all over and I try to relax bit by bit, first my neck, then my shoulders, I close my eyes and focus on the playlist I created. I go under the water and consider staying down there, just slipping into the darkness, being able to choose _when_ and _how_ I go. I open my eyes and through the water I can see how the light has broken into a million fragments, it’s so quiet in this very moment, so peaceful, so deafening. I sit up and try to take a deep breath, not much is different now that I’m out of the water, it always feels like I’m drowning.  
I step out of the bath and wrap a towel around my hips, I’m already exhausted but I make the effort of drying my hair and putting some product in it, then I go into my room and open my closet instead of just putting on the same pair of sweats and the same black t-shirt I always wear. I dig out my black skinny jeans and grab a black jumper that Phil gave me, it’s got a white grid and most importantly it’s very soft. I look at the full-body mirror that I have in my room, my jeans are sagging around my legs and the jumper looks one size too big, I still look like I’m dying but at least I look clean.  
I head for the kitchen, but before I reach it I notice my parents arguing.  
“He’s not okay, love,” I hear my mum saying.  
“We can’t take him away, this is where he wants to be,” my dad sounds tired, like he’s repeated himself multiple times.  
“Phil isn’t even here.”  
“He’s coming back the day after we leave, he can be on his own for a day.”  
“He doesn’t need to be, though, he should be with his parents.”  
“He’s already depressed and you want to take Phil out of his life?” I flinch at my dad’s words. I wish for the earth to open up and swallow me hole.  
“He can visit,” my mum counters.  
“He needs him.”  
“Why? _We_ are his family, not Phil.” I want to laugh at that, the biggest blasphemy ever spoken. _Not Phil_. I want to laugh and then scream and then disappear.  
“You know why.” My dad’s voice drops.  
“I don’t. He’s depressed and miserable and that friend of his isn’t making it any better.”  
“‘Friend of his’? They’ve lived together for ages, we love and care for Phil, he’s been nothing but supportive, we are in no place to say otherwise.”  
“I’m just saying I think he’d be better off with his family have you really looked at him lately? He’s a mess in every way.”  
“Taking him home is not going to fix that.”  
“You don’t know that, we should at least try.”  
“He’s not a child. We can’t make him do anything.”  
“He’s sick! He’ll die here!”  
Enough.  
Enough!  
ENOUGH!  
“What’s going on?” I ask as I step into the kitchen.  
“Oh. Good morning Dan, we thought you were still asleep,” my mum says reaching for my hand.  
“I was just taking a bath,” I say doing my best to control my voice.  
“Do you want to have breakfast?” My dad asks.  
“What were you talking about?”  
“Nothing son, don’t worry about it,” he replies.  
“Tell me.”  
“We were just discussing the possibility of you moving back in with us,” my mum says smiling.  
“I’m not moving back there. I have my own flat and my own life, please do not make me go back.”  
“We think it would better for you to be with your family, you see?” Her eyes are still wide and excited.  
“Phil is my family, we are just fine,” I say grinding my teeth.  
“Then why did he leave?” She’s raising her eyebrows now, like she knows she’s right.  
“He just took some days off to visit his family, nothing wrong with that.”  
“There’s plenty wrong with leaving you here all alone,” she squeezes my hand and I yank it back, crossing my arms.  
“I’m 27 mum.”  
“Yeah, and you are _sick_.” She puts an emphasis on the word as if that defined me entirely, as if that alone was enough to describe me. My eyes start tingling and I close my fists tightly.  
“Look Dan,” my dad says stepping in, “your mother feels that it would help you being surrounded by your family, but we’re not forcing you to do anything. It’s up to you.”  
“I’m staying,” I say turning around and heading for the door.  


 

Inviting my parents seemed like a great idea when I came up with it, I swear it did. I grab my keys on the way out and slam the door behind me. I have no idea where I’m going but I need to get out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Dan**

Starbucks’ coffee is not even that good, but there’s some nostalgia to it. I enter the establishment and look around; it’s pretty empty for a Friday, there’s only a couple in the far corner and a middle-aged woman, by the door, on her computer. I approach the counter fully knowing what I’m going to order but I still rehearse it in my head because I don’t want to get it wrong and make a full out of myself.  
“Good morning! Can I take your order?” The guy behind the counter asks, his black hair reminds me of Phil’s– clearly his is also dyed.   
“Hi, yeah. I’d like a Grande Caramel Macchiato, please.”  
“Sure thing, can you remind me your name?” He says smiling; he’s got a lovely crooked smile.   
“Daniel,” I reply smiling back. It feels good to smile and to be showered and wearing clean clothes.   
“Can I help you with anything else, Dan?” He says as he scribbles my name on the cup.   
“No, that’d be all, thank you.”   
“Okay, that’ll be £3.30, please.”  
“Yup, here you go,” I say handing him my credit card. His fingers linger slightly longer than necessary on my hand and I feel awkward because it was probably my fault and now he probably feels awkward too. I’m staring at my hands avoiding all eye contact as he charges me for the coffee.  
“All done,” he says handing me back my card, “you can pick up your coffee at the end of the counter.” He’s still smiling which makes me notice that his cheeks are decorated with freckles.   
“Thanks,” I mumble.   
I’m scanning the room for the most secluded and comfortable spot when he calls my name. I turn around and he winks before leaving my drink. Maybe he’s an inappropriate winker like me. I take my cup and notice there’s more than my name scribbled on the cup, this guy wrote his full name, number and Instagram handle right next to where he wrote my name. I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face as I consider my options:   
1\. I get out of here without him noticing.   
Pros: I don’t have to be in a pretty much empty Starbucks with him. / There’s no risk of him approaching me directly. / I don’t have to extend this awkward moment.   
Cons: I have to either go home or find another place where I can sit and drink my coffee. / The walk here left me exhausted; I don’t really have it in me to walk anymore. / The closest Starbucks is around five blocks away and I would have to order something else in there.   
2\. I stay and pretend I didn’t read my cup.   
Pros: If he approaches me I can just be like, ‘Oh! I’m sorry, my head is elsewhere, I didn’t notice.’ / I don’t have to walk anymore. / I don’t have to go back home. / This Starbucks is pretty much empty.   
Cons: What if he feels bad about me not calling him? / I won’t stop feeling awkward until I get out of here. / This Starbucks is pretty much empty.   
I groan, why can’t I just have a peaceful moment to myself? Fuck it. I’m tired and angry and if I want to drink my goddamn Caramel Macchiato in this stupid Starbucks then that’s what I’ll bloody do.   
I end up sitting by the window, the furthest sit from the counter, also hidden by a huge plant. I stare at the street and people-watch. They’re all in a hurry, rushing to their shitty jobs or their shitty whatevers. I sip my coffee burning the roof of my mouth; this has been my usual order ever since Phil took me to Starbucks that first time. I miss his stupid face so much it makes me angry. The first time I stepped into a Starbucks was the week I stayed at his place and I was overwhelmed by the options on the board. The line was long though, so I had somewhat enough time to choose, Phil paid for both of us which back then made me blush.   
“Um, I think I’ll have a Caramel Macchiato, please.” I said when it was finally our turn.   
“Sure, what size will that be?”  
“Uh… medium?” I didn’t know about their dumb size terminology back then.  
“Two Grandes, please.” Phil stepped in placing his hand on my shoulder and I felt a wave of relief.  
We went to Starbucks pretty much everyday that week and we watched tons of 80s movies –in his messy bed– that I hadn’t watched before, it was as if we’d known each other for ages even though we’d only just met in real life. That was also the week we filmed the first Phil Is Not On Fire. We didn’t film one last year and I’m probably not going to make it to November, so no PINOF this year either… or ever again. Anyway, it’s way too late for people to be rushing to their job, by this point they should just give up. I check my phone to see the hour and realize I’ve still got the whole day even though I feel like I’ve already done so much. It feels nice being productive again, even if for me it just means taking a shower, getting dressed, and drinking coffee.   
There’s a loud crash, which makes me involuntarily turn to look, and the barista and I make eye contact. His apron is covered in coffee and milk and God knows what else, I consider helping him out but then a girl comes out of the storage room and starts cleaning up after telling him to go fix himself. His face is deep red as he makes his way into the restroom and I feel really bad for the poor guy. I take out my phone and open Instagram. He has one of those perfect accounts where everything matches and in turn, a pretty big number of followers, I click the follow button then chug the last of my coffee burning my throat before getting out.   
The day is lovely, not too hot and not too cold, just the right amount of sunlight and wind to keep things balanced. I think about going back to my flat, with my parents, but I’m not ready to face them yet so I go down the same road I walked on right after I found out I had cancer. It was a long walk home, way too long, but I needed it, I couldn’t be trapped in a cab. It felt like my whole world was crashing down. I had had a constant cough for the past two weeks and after two different treatments it still didn’t go away, my chest started to hurt whenever I laughed (which with Phil was constantly) and then whenever I took deep breaths, so I went with a different doctor and he said not to worry but that we should do some tests to detect the real problem before it got worse and turned into pneumonia or bronchitis. Of course both the CT scan and the X-ray turned out that I had cancer but on that day the possibility of it didn’t even cross my mind.   
I remember every detail up until the moment the doctor told me. I came back to his office with my tests and had to wait until he was done with two other appointments. I played on my phone, completely relaxed because I was expecting him to give me antibiotics and tell me to stay in bed for a week. Nothing more. When I finally went into his office for the second time that day I stared at him as he studied both tests, first the X-ray and then the CT scan. There was big clock behind him and it was so quiet I could hear every tick.   
I remember the doctor said “oh” when he was done, and then studied everything again, at least five times. Then he looked at me very seriously.   
“Daniel,” he said, “did the people from the lab tell you anything when they gave you your tests?”  
“No,” I replied, “they didn’t say anything. Why? Are they wrong? Do I need to take them again?”  
“Daniel, I’m afraid the cause of your chest pains is lung cancer,” his face fell then. He was looking at me with possibly his saddest expression.  
“What?” I whispered that. I remember because he didn’t answer me and because I’ll never forget that day.  
“We can start talking about options whenever you are ready. I could contact you with some of the best oncologists in the UK…”  
His voice started fading after that. It was like my brain was screaming, begging for attention, trying to distract me from what the doctor was saying. I took a sharp breath and the pain was a quick reminder of what was happening.   
“I… I don’t know what to do… What can I do?” I asked him. I didn’t know what to say or how I was supposed to react or why I cared about how I was meant to act.   
“There are several treatments, first thing you should do is find an oncologist, I can give you a couple numbers and you can decide on who to call.” “But… _What do I do?_ ” I felt 5 then, so small and impotent. I saw how all my lights shut down. Some of them came back on, but those were the minority. I still feel lost, I still don’t know what to do and I still want someone to hold me and tell me that it’s going to be okay, that I’m going to be okay.   
By the time I was out of the hospital I had three lost calls from Phil and several texts, my appointment had already taken four times as much as it should’ve so it made sense that he was wondering where I was but I was not ready to talk to him. As soon as I stepped out the door I started walking home, I didn’t even consider taking a cab or the tube, I just wanted to breathe in some fresh air cause it felt like I was going to choke on all my thoughts.   
It was a terrible idea, of course, by the time I was a couple blocks away I felt like I could puke both my lungs and bit of my heart. I was gasping for air but it felt like I could not get in enough to fill my lungs. I put my hands on my knees as I bent down to cough when a girl came up to me and asked me if I needed help, I just moved my head from side to side as I kept hyperventilating. It took me a long time to recover, I had to sit on the floor and put my head in between my knees. I tried to count the seconds in between each inhalation and exhalation focusing on the only face I know better than my own. I considered calling Phil but then I decided to walk those last blocks for him.   
I give up sooner today, I’m already out of breath and I have nothing to prove anymore. I decide to take the tube, as I’m only a block away from the nearest underground entrance. I take out my Oyster card and remember how Phil and I used to collect them, whenever we found a design that we liked.   


 

When I arrive to my building the stairs stand tall in front of me; I consider just sleeping on the pavement, take advantage of the good weather, you know? I sigh and brace myself. We should move again, to a place with no stairs, even the ones inside the flat are a struggle. Sometimes I just lock myself in my room so I don’t have to take the stairs. I’m halfway there when I need to take a break so I sit on one of the steps. I can’t even remember what it was like walking up the stairs before, I remember that I always got tired but nothing like now, not even close. I take in a deep breath –or at least I try to– before taking on the rest of the stairs. I open the door and my mother is standing wide-eyed right in front of me.  
“Oh, Dan! Where were you? We were so worried!” She says hugging me softly.  
“It’s fine mum, I’m fine.”  
“You were gone all morning, did you have lunch?”  
“I wasn’t hungry,” I say walking past her, “I’m really tired actually, I think I’m going to take a nap.”  
I sit on my bed and think about calling Phil but he’s probably busy and also the whole point of him going up North was to get away from me and I actually _am_ tired, so perhaps a nap wouldn’t be too bad.  


 

My mum woke me up a couple hours ago; I pretty much slept all day, so much for productivity. We all are currently watching a movie and I have no idea what it’s about, not even which genre it is, but my parents seem to be enjoying it, not enough to forget that I haven’t eaten dinner but enough to forget that they want me to go back to Wokingham with them. I just need to keep them distracted for one more day until they eventually, hopefully, let it go. It is absolutely ridiculous to think that I’d be better off without Phil and outside of London. One of the main reasons I went to uni was to get out of my house, and thankfully I didn’t have to return, ever. I’m sure if Phil were here he’d be able to convince them to let me stay, it wouldn’t take much, he usually gets his way, he’s just that kind of person.   
I wish he were here, cause I’m selfish, cause I’m lost without him, cause I love him.   



	10. Chapter 10

**Dan**

Today’s technically the last day my parents are going to be here because they leave really early tomorrow morning but I’m really not in the mood to hang out with anyone today or do anything at all, for that matter. I’m currently lying on the floor of my room with my eyes closed. It’s been a really slow day, my dad tried to convince me to do some shopping with him but I just wasn’t feeling it, my lungs are worse today than other times.  
I woke up crying from a dream I wish I couldn’t remember, yesterday’s walk left me exhausted so I actually managed to doze off as soon as I laid on my bed –even though I’d already taken probably the longest nap on record– but that didn’t stop nightmares from drowning me. I watered my cacti first thing after I woke up; my terrariums always help me calm down. I also had breakfast with my parents and I noticed that my mum pours her milk first and _then_ her cereal, Phil would have a fit if he saw that, he’s very particular about the way one should eat cereal even though he eats it dry out of the box when he thinks I’m not looking. I’m always looking though, always staring at him, it doesn’t do me any good but I still do it, I can’t help it.  
The floor is hard and cold under me which I appreciate because it’s currently 28º outside, my mum’s come into my room a thousand times asking if I want to go out or do something but all I want is to lie here and pretend the world has stopped spinning, pretend the clocks are not ticking, that everything’s on pause.  
Although, if time keeps going then I get to see Phil in just two days. We haven’t talked since he called me on Tuesday and he didn’t sound angry then but I don’t know what his mood will be like when he sees me on Monday. Personally, all I want to do is cling to his arm like a leech and never let go but even if he wasn’t angry, it’s not like he’d let me.  
“Hey Dan,” my mum says opening my door. 1001.  
“Hey mum,” I reply still staring at the ceiling.  
“Your dad’s back from the shopping center, we’re about to eat dinner.”  
“That’s great, mum.”  
“You should eat something with us.”  
“I’m not hungry,” I say closing my eyes.  
“Please Daniel, you’ve been on the floor all day. It’s not okay.” Daniel. Is that the kind of conversation we’re having? The one that calls for my full name?  
“I’m just not hungry.”  
“I don’t care, you have to eat something.”  
“I did.”  
“You are not a child anymore, stop throwing tantrums.”  
“I’m not, I’m simply having a conversation with you.”  
“We are leaving tomorrow,” she says changing her tone, “would you please have dinner with us on our last night together?”  
“It’s not our last night together… I’ll see you soon.”  
“But you don’t know that, do you? You won’t come home with us and you won’t spend time with us when we’ve made the effort to visit you. I don’t know how much longer I get to… be with you. We just want to be with you.”  
I’m tired of people making me feel guilty. I’m tired of people using the fact that I’m dying to get their way. It shouldn’t be like that, I should be the one being able to do whatever I want.  
“I’m sorry,” I say getting up, “what are we having for dinner?”

* * *

“You got everything, right?” I ask my dad.  
“Yeah, I think so,” he replies, “are you ready love?” He continues a little louder so my mum can hear him.  
“Coming! I’m trying to find my glasses,” she shouts from the other room.  
“I’ll go help her,” he tells me rolling his eyes.  
I feel some relief from my parents leaving but also a little guilt. My mum tried to convince me again last night to go back to Berkshire with them, and I know it’s the right thing to do, I know it’s what I should do for everyone’s sake. But not for mine. Truly, there are very few things tying me down to this planet, taking Phil away would only make it easier for me to float far, far away. It’s stupid, really, because I’ve suggested moving in with my parents on multiple occasions but every time Phil tells me that’d be insane and every time I feel a wave of relief.  
“Okay, I think we’re all set,” my mother says as she enters the room.  
“Brilliant, the cab’s already downstairs,” my dad replies looking at his phone.  
“Thank you so much for coming, guys,” I say and I really mean it. I’m not good at being by myself.  
My mum steps forward and hugs me, “call if you need anything and think about it, okay?”  
I don’t say anything I just hug her tightly before I let go.  
“We’ll see you soon, son,” my dad says clapping my shoulder.  
“You will,” I reply before hugging him.  
I don’t go down the stairs with them because, why would I do that to myself? So I just look at their backs from my door as they make their way down. When I can’t see them anymore I go back inside.  
I go into the kitchen and prepare myself a coffee. Phil likes the instant kind, the one that comes in a jar and you just have to combine with water. It doesn’t taste great but it’s fast and I need fast. I take the mug and go back to my room. Today’s going to be the longest day; days always last longer when Phil’s about to come back.  
When I get to my room I sit at my desk and notice a package on the other side that I ordered from Amazon back when I made my list of “Things to do Before I Die.” I get up and grab it from my floor; I haven’t bothered to open it so I do it now. It’s a book, a really short one– only 180 pages and a classic. I realized that I haven’t read that many classics even though I love to read and then I realized it’s because I mostly waste my time on Wikipedia articles.  
I read them because I actually love learning new things, but I guess I like to do it on my own terms because I just couldn’t get trough uni. I think about going back sometimes, (to study another major, of course) but then crippling doubts cloud my mind, _what if I’m too old? What if I can’t finish this time either? What if it takes up all of my time? What if I’m the most stupid one there?_ And it’s not like I have a lot of time left on this Earth, anyway. Plus, I don’t think I have it in me to focus all my efforts on a single thing.  
I’m _good_ at a lot of stuff, I think, but I don’t really _excel_ at anything because I never dedicate enough time to a one activity. I’m always juggling hobbies, trying out new things, but I never care enough to become an expert at anything. It’s frustrating sometimes, but I suppose that’s just who I am. I wish I was great at piano or at editing or even at reading but I do everything halfway. I can never pull through on anything. I’m going to die without being exceptionally okay at something.  
I open the book and read the first line:  


_“In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I‘ve been turning over in my head ever since. Whenever you feel like criticizing any one, he told me, just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had”_  


It honestly sounds like something Phil would say. He’s such a kind guy, almost too nice sometimes. He’s taught me a lot even though he’s not that much older. He always knows what to say and how to fix a situation. I would be so lost without that boy.  
I start reading the book at first to kill time but then I get really into it. When I grab my coffee again it’s gone cold and the light outside has changed. The characters are hardly relatable and yet, at the same time, I can see myself perfectly in some of them.  
I can see Phil too.  
I’m halfway through the book when I think about FaceTiming Phil; surely he’s not too busy, right? And he’s obviously not asleep either– it’s way too late. It really couldn’t hurt either of us to make things less awkward before he comes back.  
I decide to text him first in case he’s actually gone out or is doing something with his family.  


_hey_  
_facetime?_  


I wait for him to text back but the minutes pass and I get nothing. I’m getting desperate staring at my phone screen so I decide to call him anyway.  
“Hello?” A voice I don’t recognize answers and all I can see is the sky.  
“Phil?”  
“Oh, hi Dan, no, it’s Cordelia,” she moves the phone and it focuses on her face.  
“Ah! Hello, how are you?”  
“Good, good, thank you. Is everything okay?”  
No. “Sure!”  
“Do you want me to get Phil?” She says laughing at something someone tells her.  
“Is he busy?” I ask, already knowing that he is.  
“Pff, never for you, give me a second,” she says putting the phone down and the screen turns blue.  
I feel really stupid all of a sudden. Of course he’s busy. He’s over there to be away from me not to have me calling him up asking him for attention.  
“Dan?”  
“Phil?” I know it’s him, but I still say his name with doubt in my tone because I can’t see his face.  
“Everything all right?” Everyone always assumes I’m dying.  
“Everything’s great,” I reply and there he is. Black hair, pale skin, blue eyes.  
“Give me a second, I’ll go inside, it’s way too loud out here,” he says and then all I can see is his chin. “Okay, so what is it?”  
“I just wanted to talk, see how you are doing…” I know I’m blushing and I’m wishing this were a normal call where he couldn’t see my face.  
“I’m great, even though it’s really warm over here, I think I might actually get a tan,” he says smiling.  
“I thought that wasn’t possible,” I reply feeling a little relief from his casual tone.  
“I think what has actually happened is that I’ve gotten so many new freckles they’ve all merged into a completely new skin tone,” he shows me his arm and there are definitely new freckles there, then he pulls his sleeve up to reveal even more brown dots sprinkled all over his shoulder.  
“Are you wearing sunscreen? I don’t want you to evaporate.”  
“Oh, I am. Loads.”  
“Good. Hey, did you hear about the new FaceTime update?”  
“Right, should we invite our other 30 friends to this call?” A strand of hair is falling over his forehead.  
“The update’s not out yet, Phil.”  
“Dammit, all of our 30 friends will be so disappointed,” he says shaking his head from side to side frowning.  
“I know, too bad.” Even before I got sick I don’t think we could’ve ever managed to add up more than five _actual_ friends.  
“Oh, well, who needs them, anyway, right?” He says then.  
It’s you and me against the world, Phil.  
“I could use some new friends, tbh.” I actually say tbh because I guess I’m just the kind of person that says acronyms out loud irl.  
“Oh, shut up, you twat.”  
“I could! Maybe someone who plays football, you know, a bro.”  
“Is that why you called me? To break up with me? Find yourself a new best friend?”  
Hardly. “Don’t be daft, I actually wanted to know when your train gets here.”  
“Oh, after lunch, around 6, I’m guessing.”  
“Ah, okay…”  
“I can take an earlier one, you know?” Suddenly someone shouts his name and he turns around.  
“ _Phil!_ ” The voice yells. “ _Where did you go?_ ”  
“ _I’m just over here! Inside!_ ” He replies to the person and puts the phone back down. The ceiling’s white.  
“ _What are you doing here?_ ”  
“ _I’m talking to Dan._ ”  
“ _Of course you are,_ ”  
What does that mean?  
“ _He’s still on the line, do you want to say hi?_ ” Phil moves the phone then and I can see Martyn.  
“Hi Martyn,” I say.  
“Hey Dan, how you doing, buddy?”  
“I’m excellent, how about you?”  
“Well, kind of hungry, we are all waiting for Phil so we can eat.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”  
“You can eat without me,” Phil tells him furrowing his brow.  
“Mum says otherwise,” Martyn replies and he looks like a child. I swear the Lesters do not age.  
“Go Phil, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I force myself to say.  
“I’ll see you outside,” Phil’s brother says, “we miss you Dan!”  
“I miss you lot, too.” I reply and watch him turn around and leave.  
“I’m sorry Dan, they’ll start eating without me, they don’t have any self-control.”  
“Ah! So that’s where you get it from, or don’t get it, I guess.”  
“Exactly, so next time I eat a whole bag of sweets, don’t blame me, it’s in my DNA”  
“Uh-huh, okay.”  
“ _Phil!_ ” Another voice calls and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.  
My friend looks apologetically at his phone, at me.  
“I think maybe I should go.”  
““It’s fine, go before they collectively murder you. I’ll see you soon,” I reply trying to hide my disappointment but it doesn’t fool Phil.  
“I’ll call you tonight, okay?”  
I smile, a little too wide, a little too much. “Okay.”  
“Bye Dan,” he says and then he hangs up. 

 

I spend the rest of the day on my phone. Lurking on social media without actually posting anything, reading articles, looking up random (useless) information. I make the effort of cooking myself dinner and actually eating some of it. Then I take a shower. I’m not really a shower-at-night type of person but I’m tired of staring at my phone. I decide to listen to a new album that’s just been released while I’m showering. It’s not great.  
I get out and sit on my towel while browsing through my phone some more. Instagram can be the best or the worst social media depending on my mood, everyone’s always so happy in their pictures and in all this cool places, meanwhile I’m having trouble functioning at a basic level, but at the same time, it’s nice to see life through other people’s eyes. People that are not depressed and that aren’t too sick to go out and do what they want.  
I’m in the middle of stalking someone when I get an Instagram message. It’s from an account I don’t recognize and I freak out slightly because only people that I’m following are supposed to be able to send me stuff. When I open it I see the profile picture and it’s the Starbucks barista.  
_Oh, right. I did that._  
I’m legitimately scared to open it. I don’t know why, it’s not like it’s going to say something vile –I think– he’s probably just saying hi, but what does he want from me? I’m about to open it when Phil starts calling me.  
I accept his call and there he is, in his pyjamas sat on a bed.  
“Heyyyy,” he says elongating the word.  
“Hey you, is your family not starving anymore?” I say raising an eyebrow.  
“Don’t think so, they ate a pretty big dinner.”  
“What did you eat?”  
“I didn’t, wasn’t really that hungry after lunch.”  
“Is that an empty bag of mini marshmallows behind you?” I ask him squinting my eyes.  
“Maybe…”  
“So lunch, huh?”  
“Okay, I stuffed myself with mini marshmallows.”  
“Phil!”  
“I’m sorry, yeah? I bought them on the train and no one had eaten them, I waited a week Dan! I deserved them.”  
“ _Right…,_ ” I tell him rolling my eyes. “So where’s everyone?”  
“They all went to sleep apart from Martyn and Cornelia, they’re watching a movie.”  
“Aren’t you tired? We can talk tomorrow.”  
“Nonsense, it’s still early.”  
“You are just saying that because you’ve just eaten a month’s worth of sugar.”  
“And also it’s only midnight. Did you just shower?”  
“Yeah, actually I’m still in my towel.”  
“Aren’t you cold? You should put something on, you could get sick.”  
I’m already sick. “I’m okay, Phil.”  
“Did you at least dry your hair?”  
“Does it look dry to you?”  
“Dan, seriously.”  
“Phil, it’s hot as fuck in London right now.”  
“It’ll take you a minute, Dan.”  
“Fine, mum.” I place my phone on by bed and open one of my drawers. I pull out a clean pair of sweats and a big camo shirt. “Better?” I ask grabbing my phone from the mattress.  
“Dan!”  
“What?!”  
“What _happened_?!”  
“What do you mean…,”  
“Your body! It’s gone, I can only see your floating head!”  
“Oh my God, you are such a fucking prick.”  
He’s laughing. Phil has sort of a quiet laugh. I think it’s lovely.  
“I had to,” he says still giggling.  
“Not really, you’ve made that joke way too many times already.”  
“Yeah, I should stop before I break the sound barrier…,” he smirks.  
“That does not even make sense on any level whatsoever you doofus,” I try to sound angry but I’m smiling like the idiot I am.  
“I can’t wait to come back,” he says softly.  
“Aren’t you having fun?”  
“Most certainly! It’s just… this call is the most fun I’ve had this week.”  
“You have really low standards, man.”  
“I know, bro.”  
“Maybe you should do something about that, dude.”  
"Perhaps, pal.”  
“Do it then, mate.”

 

Phil is a moron. My favorite moron.


	11. Chapter 11

**Phil**

A week has passed since Dan managed to (force) convince me to spend some time with my family up north and today I am finally returning home. I’m so nervous about coming back that it’s ridiculous; I barely managed to get any sleep last night.  
I’m now on the train trying to focus on the podcast I decided to listen to but my mind keeps drifting off. I press pause and sigh, reclining my head against the sit and closing my eyes. I think about Dan and the way he acted the last time I saw him in person and then I think about how normal he was on the phone last night.  
“Excuse me, is this sit taken?”  
I open my eyes to see a girl, around my age, staring down at my backpack on the sit next to me. She is wearing bright pink cargo pants and a fluorescent green tank top. Her blonde hair is done into messy pigtails and her teeth are covered in pink lipstick. I can tell because she’s smiling really widely.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not,” I reply removing my backpack and placing it between my legs.   
I close my eyes again ready for more mental torture but she taps my shoulder. I open my eyes and her hand is really close to my face, holding a Mint Aero.  
“Do you want it?” She asks. “There was a ‘buy one, get one free’ promotion at the Deli. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m more than capable of eating both but I don’t think that’s the healthiest choice.”   
“Ah, I’m alright. Thank you though,” I say looking at my feet as she puts the chocolate back in her bag.   
“No problem lad.”  
I check if I’m still wearing my earphones and I am, which means there’s no stopping this girl from trying to socialize. _Great_.   
“I’m guessing you are from London, are you?” She asks.  
“Uh, originally no, but currently, yes.”  
“Oh really? Where are you from then?”  
“Lancashire.”  
“Really? That’s ace! Me too!”  
I smile and nod then look back down at my phone.  
“So why did you move to London?” She asks.  
I shrug but she’s still staring at me. “Um my job, I guess.”  
“Ah, so you a man of the big city now, eh?”  


 

She continues to ask questions and there is no stopping her. I begin to wonder if she’s secretly a viewer but I quickly dismiss that thought. I pretend several times to look at something of big importance on my phone in an attempt to get her to stop but she doesn’t quit until I finally tell her I’m feeling pretty knackered from the trip and am actually looking forward to getting some sleep. She seems disappointed but I’m too stressed to care. I close my eyes and try to figure out how to greet Dan. It’s not like anything’s different between us but the thing is, he had never tried to push me away before and I don’t know what to do in order to make him happy.   
I thought being with me made him happy.  
I tired out everyone this past week; they were all done with listening to me talk about Dan. My dad actually suggested me going back to London earlier, that’s how annoying I was. I just couldn’t get him out of my head. I want things to be okay between us, I don’t want him to think I pity him, even though I do– how could I not? He doesn’t deserve to have everything he loves taken away from him.   
I worry about him a lot, I know he’s depressed and of course it makes sense, but I can’t help wishing I were able to make it go away. It’s stupid really, I’m aware that’s not how it works, it’s not fair for either of us to think that I could solely make his brain feel better, balance it all out. It’s just so frustrating to watch him like that. All I can do is stand by and be there for him, but if he doesn’t even _let_ me do that, then _what_? How do I live knowing my best friend’s suffering and there’s not a thing I can do?   
I worry about him wanting to disappear.  
I worry about him disappearing.   
The sound of the driver announcing we are about to arrive to London takes me out of my trance. I’m scared to open my eyes in case the girl has more conversation in her but I also want to check the time and if I have any missed texts. When I do open my eyes I find that she’s gone, I look around and see her sitting two rows ahead, chatting away with a woman that looks like she’s pleading for death.   


 

I arrive to our flat and take a deep breath. _It’s going to be okay. It’s just Dan_. I shake my head trying to get rid of the impossibly ridiculous thoughts that cloud my head and open the door.  
“Dan? I’m home!” I say as loudly as I can.   
“Phil!” Dan says as he appears out of a corner and hurries to the door. He wraps his arms around me and I do the same. I sigh with relief as he buries his head in my shoulder and I allow myself to relax for the first time that week.  
“I missed you,” I say into his shirt.  
“Well of course you did, how did you manage to survive without my exceedingly hilarious sense of humor and smart commentary?”  
I huff and let him go, “Oh, shut up.”  


 

We spend the rest of the evening talking about everything and nothing. It feels good to be back home; with the one person that makes me feel at home.   


**Dan**

I wake up to the sight of Phil spread across the couch sleeping on his side. My neck hurts from craning it when I fell asleep while sitting down. I check my phone and realize it’s 20 past four in the morning. We must’ve fallen asleep halfway through our ‘Friends’ marathon. Phil thought it’d be a good choice to lighten the mood and it certainly felt good slipping back into this routine. His legs are resting on my lap so I reach for his shoulder and shake it.   
“Hey Philly, time to go to bed, dude.”  
He turns on his back and puts his arm across his face. I can see his muscles shifting.  
“What? What time is it?” Phil murmurs.   
“Almost four thirty,” I reply softly poking his leg, “come on. We both know this couch is not suitable for spending a night on it.”  
“Right, definitely not,” he says sitting up.  
“We’ve like ruined it with our butts,” I say.   
“How long have I been asleep?” He’s rubbing his face and his hair is standing in weird random places.  
“I don’t know, I fell asleep as well.” I think about smoothing it down, his hair that is, but I get up instead.  
“Goodnight Dan,” he’s smiling up at me with tired eyes and messy hair and I’m just standing there, staring back. _Jesus fuck_.  
“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Phil.”  


 

I look at my list of “Things to do Before I Die” and a particular thing catches my eye. I stare at it and think about crossing it out, I play with the option of just forgetting about it entirely and replacing it with something more doable like climbing the Everest. I trace the letters with my finger and a sinking feeling fills me up. I remember the exact moment I decided to write this list and what triggered it. The day I told Phil that I had cancer we spent the entire night doing research. He was really positive; it is weird thinking about him that way now. He was looking for solutions but I was looking for lawyers and googling the expenses of funerals. Back then I was doing it as a preventive measure; at least that’s what I used to tell myself. It was only a ‘just in case’ type of research but one night, it downed on me. The possibility of me dying was high– higher than the possibility of surviving. And the last visit to the hospital has been a big reminder. Big enough to make me dig out the list from the bottom of my drawer right now. I stare at number 5 of the list; I read it over and over. I torture myself with the idea of doing it and then with the idea of not doing it. It’s impossible to live like this, not knowing what could have been.    


 

"Let's go to Brighton, Phil," I say as we are having breakfast. I woke up with a smile on my face– I had a good dream after all this time and it helped me make up my mind.   
"What?" He replies looking up from his cereal.  
"Let's go to Brighton," I repeat.  
“What are you talking about? Did I miss something?”  
“I’m talking about us, you and me, _dan and phil_ , going on holiday to Brighton.”  
"Are you serious?"  
"Why not? You like the beach, right?"  
"Well yeah, I guess I do... You mean it?"  
"How many different ways do you want me to say it? I'm 100% committed to this trip,” I say smiling. He studies my face, still holding his spoon and dripping milk all over his lap.   
"Okay, let's do it. When do you want to leave? I’ll look up train rides," he says dropping the spoon into the bowl and standing up.   
Last night, before going to sleep I thought about it. About number five on the list. About how much I wanted it to be real and how much I was willing to risk in order to get it. I went over my plan over and over again and came to the conclusion that 1. It was a stupid plan that would never work and 2. I did not care.  
It scares me how invested I am already and how much courage it took to ask Phil to come with me to the beach. I am putting our friendship on the line, which means I am putting everything on the line.   
I realize I’m holding my breath and clenching my fists so I try to relax. I breathe in, count, and then breathe out. I close my eyes and picture the plan going well. I picture myself, finally feeling peaceful, free and happy. It hurts to think that this one thing is what’s going to make me happy, because the chances of it happening are less than slim.  
I hear Phil come back in the room. “Okay, so when did you say you want to leave?” He says holding his computer open.  
“Shouldn’t we call doctor Michigan first?” I ask, sabotaging myself. I am always sabotaging myself.   
“Oh, right, of course,” he replies handing me his computer, “give me a second, I’ll ask him.” Phil gets his phone out of his pocket and stars scrolling through his contacts. He looks at me thoughtfully and then walks out of the room. When he comes back he’s half-smiling and wringing his fingers.   
“He said he’d like to see you first, you know, just to be sure you’ll be alright,” Phil says holding out his hand. I think about taking it and then I give him his MacBook. “I’m sure he’ll give us the green light though, don’t worry.”   
I try to copy his smile but I’m not sure I actually manage it. I really really need this work.   


 

The next day, when we arrive to the hospital I’m feeling more lightheaded than usual, which is not good for the time being. I try to focus on filling my lungs with enough air. Phil is walking in front of me, because he thinks that’s what I want, because it is usually what I want, but not today. I’m bobbling with anxiety, so much I can feel cold sweat sliding down my back. I want this trip, I need to get _this_ done before the surgery, I need to finish all my unfinished business.   
It’s not that I believe in ghosts or the afterlife, but that does not exempt me from being terrified of being stuck here for the rest of eternity because I didn’t do something I was supposed to do. Although maybe I’m not supposed to do _this_ , maybe I’m just spoiled and stubborn and wired to want things I can’t have.   
“Phil?” I say stopping on my tracks. He turns around, worry painted all over his face.  
“Are you alright?” He asks reaching his arm. I’m not sure what that gesture means or how I’m supposed to respond.   
“I think I need a little help,” I say looking down.   
“Oh, of course,” he answers and then firmly wraps an arm around my waist. “Lean on me.”   
“I’m fine, you know?” I say as I place my arm on his shoulders, “just a little lightheaded, that’s all.” He nods but doesn’t say anything.   
I try to relax; getting a panic attack would only diminish my already shitty odds of being allowed to go on this trip. I feel Phil’s arm around me. _It’s okay, everything’s all right, you are doing this with Phil._ I feel his shoulders beneath my arm. _You are okay. Phil is okay. It’s all okay._  
When we get to the doctor’s office I sit on the closest chair and close my eyes. My hands are going numb and there’s a buzzing in my ears. I can hear Phil talking to the receptionist and I try to focus on his voice. Not on what he’s saying but on the tone of his voice. The familiar way it feels me up. I think about his blue eyes and his dark hair and his fair face and the constellations on his arms. I visualize his face trying to recreate every detail, the way his hair frames his face, the way his eyebrows arch perfectly around his eyes. I try to paint his eyes in my mind, mainly blue but green around the iris with yellow on the sides. And then actual Phil touches my shoulder. I open my eyes and he’s standing so close I can perfectly see all the colors I listed before, an ocean struck by lighting.   
“She said the doctor will be free soon,” he tells me.  
“Okay, gives me enough time to chill out,” I reply, moving my fingers making sure I can feel them again.  
“Are you nervous?” He asks as he sits down.  
“A little, yeah. I really want to go, you know?”  
He places his hand on my bouncing knee and smiles, “I’m sure everything’s going to be fine, don’t worry about it. You had permission before,” I can sense a little resentment in his tone. Just a little.   
“I know, but we are really close to the surgery date now,” I say looking at his hand placed on my leg. The doctor had told us that he would try to book the surgery as soon as possible but that it was a complicated procedure so we probably would have to wait around a month. The month is over next week and I’m guessing he’s going to tell us the official date today.   
A young girl comes out the door –probably around eleven– she’s holding a Paddington Bear under her left arm and a lollipop on her right hand. Her mom’s eyes are red and her nails are chipped. She’s wearing an oversized jumper that’s covered with coffee stains and other type of stains.   
“Daniel? The doctor is ready for you,” the redhead receptionist says. Every time I look at her I feel the urge to squeeze her freckled face, maybe one day I’ll ask her if I can do it. I could guilt her into letting me, after all, dying has to be good for something.  
“Thank you,” I say standing up.   



	12. Chapter 12

**Phil**

“So after the surgery?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dan this sad. Maybe when that one guy died in that one movie. He’s an emotional person but he looks so defeated right now everything inside me is breaking.  
“I believe it’s what’s best. You haven’t had another episode, we still need to run a number of tests but you seem to be in a good enough state. I wouldn’t want your daily circumstances to change so close to the procedure,” the Doctor tells him.  
“I get that,” Dan says, “but it would only be Brighton, it’s not even like I would have to get on a plane and we’d only be there a week.”  
“I am sorry Daniel but I have to advice against it. Your situation is fairly delicate, we should take advantage of your good health…”  
Dan huffs and crosses his arms.  
“Is there anything we could do to change your mind, Doctor?” I say even though I know there isn’t. I can’t give Dan what he needs once again.  
“Philip, I need you to encourage Daniel to take care of himself, not otherwise.”  
“Of course but, like he already said–”  
“Fellas,” Doctor Michigan cuts in, “surely you can wait. I’m sorry but the answer is no, you need that surgery as soon as possible, kid.”  
Doctor Michigan is really annoying. I want to get up and punch him and it doesn’t surprise me either, it’s not like it’s the first time.  


* * *

When Dan told me he wanted to go to Brighton I sat astounded at the breakfast table, trying to read his expression but he was just smiling, like when he's feeling cocky.  
Right now he’s pouting.  
“We can still go, Dan, we just have to wait a little longer,” I say trying to comfort him.  
“Forget it, Phil. It’s over. Whatever, it’s not like I care.”  
“Are you… Dan it’s okay to be upset, but–“  
“Is it? Is it okay, Phil? Please, _do_ let me know, what _else_ is okay?” He’s fuming, throwing his hands around.  
“I just want to help Dan, you don’t have to be such a dick.” I regret the words immediately. He looks _pained_.  
“So noted.”  
And with that, he leaves. He stumps out of the room, leaving me feeling guilty and useless.  
Dan’s surgery is set for August 12th but apparently, before we can go through with it, he has to take a number of tests to make sure he’ll have enough ‘healthy lung tissue’ left after surgery and to prove the well-being and health of the rest of his organs. Less than two weeks to get it all done– to get ready.  
I rack my head trying to think about something that would make him feel better, perhaps something familiar, something that we’ve always enjoyed doing and doesn’t require a whole lot of energy. I walk towards his room knowing that’s probably where he went.  


**Dan**

“Dan?” Phil says knocking on my door.  
“What is it now, Phil?” I am so predictable, I should’ve hidden in our terrace, he never would’ve guessed.  
“Can I come in?”  
“You must certainly cannot,” I reply as he walks in. He enters my room as if it’s his own. “What do you want?”  
“I know this sucks,” he says, “and I am _so_ sorry, but we’ll still go, you know?”  
“You can’t _know_ that Phil, it could all go wrong,” I reply staring at my hands. I wanted to get number 5 done before the surgery in case I didn’t make it but I guess it’s true what they say, life sucks and then you die.  
“I _do_ know,” my friend replies.  
“How?”  
“I just do. You deserve to be happy, Dan and the universe knows that.”  
“Are you high, Phil?”  
“I’m just _positive_ ,” he replies sitting on my bed.  
“You are stupid.”  
“Could you stop being _such_ an _ass_ for a second?”  
“Fine! I’m sorry! Is that all you came here to say? Because I’m _sorry_! I’m sorry I’m such a burden. I’m sorry I’m such an _ass_. I’m sorry you have to put up with it! That’s why I asked you to _go_ , Phil! So you could get a break from me but you came back and I was too weak to leave so here we are again.  
“Please, I am so sorry. You don’t deserve this but I just… Phil, I just… I am so tired of everything going wrong all the time, and I know it’s not your fault. _Nothing_ is your fault. You are the only one that always makes things right, but I just, I can’t do it anymore,” I’m crying. It’s ridiculous but I am. I’m sobbing into my hands and the whole bed is shaking underneath us.  
“Dan…” I feel Phil’s arms around my shoulders. “Dan, come on, look at me.”  
I try but I can’t stop sobbing and I don’t want him to see, I think about sawing my hands into my face and then he softly moves them. “I’m sorry too, okay?”  
“Why?” The single word comes out broken and in the middle of a sob.  
“I shouldn’t have called you out for being an ass, you have every right to be an ass and there’s absolutely no other place where I’d rather be. Hey, look at me,” he says placing a hand underneath my chin, “I don’t have to _put up_ with you. I _love_ being with you. You are my best friend.”  
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” is all I manage to say.  
“Stop apologizing,” he’s still holding my face, his hand is warm against my skin. It helps me clam down.  
“I’m sorr– okay, yeah, I will.” I say and his face is so close.  
“So are you going let me say what I actually came here to say?” He lets go of my face then and my chin feels cold.  
“Of course, of course,” I reply attempting my best smile.  
“Well I thought maybe some familiarity would help the current situation, you know, something calm and well-known.”  
“Okay…” I have no idea what he’s getting at.  
“I just thought maybe we could do something that didn’t require a lot of energy from either of us cause I gotta tell you I’m feeling kind of drained.”  
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I reply still confused.  
“So how about some coffee from the Starbucks down the road?”  
“ _No_!”  


**Phil**

Dan’s eyes are so wide they might just pop out of his face. He’s holding his hands in front of his face, palms facing me, in a defensive way.  
“What’s wrong?” I say thinking his reaction couldn’t possibly be related to me suggesting going to get coffee.  
“Nothing, it’s just…”  
“Yeah?”  
“There’s this guy…”  
“There’s a guy?”  
“A barista.”  
“A barista?”  
“He gave me his number…”  
“His number?”  
“Could you please stop repeating everything I’m saying?”  
“So there’s a guy, a barista, at our local Starbucks that gave you his number?”  
“And his Instagram handle.”  
“Okay…”  
“And I followed him.”  
“Have you two talked?”  
“He sent me a DM but I never replied.”  
“What did it say?”  
“I don’t know I never opened it.”  
“Why?”  
“Well, right after I got it you called me and then I just forgot.”  
“So…this guy, is he…cute?”  
“I don’t know… I guess. I don’t remember him so well. He has black hair and freckles, I think.”  
“How original,” I say and he looks at me like he’s studying my face. He’s staring too hard. It makes me uncomfortable.  
“Could we go somewhere else?” He says biting his bottom lip. He bites that lip almost as much as I bite my nails.  
“I’m sure he won’t be there, you do know they don’t make the same person work every single day, right?”  
“Right but what if he _is_?”  
“Then you say hi.”  
“‘Hi’?”  
“Why not?”  
“Right, why not.” He says frowning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Dan**

I do my best to avoid going, I tell Phil that I’m tired, I tell him that I’d rather stay home and watch a movie, I tell him that caffeine makes me anxious.   
And he calls an Uber.  
“Phil! Come on!”  
“Dan, you need to chill out.”  
“No, I do not. _You_ are the one that’s acting all crazy.”  
“Because I want to get coffee?”  
“Because you want to get coffee from a guy that gave me his number.”  
“I’m not actively trying to get coffee from _him_ , I just want a cup of coffee from Starbucks.”  
“There are better coffee shops.”  
“The Uber’s here. Let’s go,” he says as he makes his way for the front door.   
I groan and bash my shoulder against the wall on my way out. _Why_ is he like this? I’ve literally just had an emotional breakdown and now he’s putting me through even _more_ emotional distress. I stare at Phil as he casually makes his way down the stairs, hell, he’s almost _skipping_ down the stairs. I sigh and grip the stair rail. Hopefully today’s the day the universe gives me a break.  


 

Today is definitely not the day.   
The moment we get in I see him behind the counter. But the line is mildly long and he’s not at the register, he’s the one in charge of making the drinks, which makes me feel a little relieved.   
“So, is he here?” Phil asks scanning the place.   
“What? Yeah.”   
“Which one is he, then?”  
I point with my chin to where the blenders are; the guy–Mark, is currently mixing a drink, and facing the other way.   
“Hm,” is all Phil says and then the line is moving.  
We are two customers away from placing our order and Mark is now serving the coffee he just mixed. I think he probably won’t even know I was ever here. _Good_. The next person moves forward and starts giving their order but when they’re done and it’s time to charge them the cashier’s phone rings.  
“Oh, excuse me, I have to take this,” the barista tells the lady in front of us, “Mark? Could you please? It’s my mum…”  
“What?” Mark replies looking up at him confused.  
“The call I told you about this morning?” The other barista says already walking away.  
“Right! Right…” Mark says as he quickly wipes his hands on his apron and approaches the register, “I apologize ma’am, what will be your form of payment?”  
I’m actually sweating. I turn around to look at Phil with pleading eyes. “Please, let’s just go.”  
The asshole just giggles and rolls his eyes and then it’s our turn. Phil softly pushes me forward by placing his left hand on the small of my back.  
“Hello, how can I help you today?” Mark says still putting away the cash from the last client.  
I elbow Phil’s ribs so that he says his order. “I think I’ll try out the new S’mores Frappuccino, please.” You can actually hear the smug smile in his voice.   
“Of course, could you remind me your name?” And then Mark finally looks up. “Oh!” He says, as his eyes are getting wider. “Hi…”  
“Hi,” I reply half-smiling. Mark’s staring at my waist which makes me feel weird and then I’m aware of Phil’s hand still on my back.   
“My name’s Phil,” he says completely sliding his arm around me.  
“What?” Mark replies staring at Phil’s hand around my waist.  
“For the coffee?” Phil says in a questioning tone as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, which I guess it is.   
“Oh, right,” Mark says finally removing his eyes from us and looking at the screen in front of him. “Anything for you, Dan?”  
For some reason I’m surprised he remembers my name even though I remember his, “I don’t think so, not really in the mood for coffee at the moment, Mark.”  
“So no Caramel Macchiato, today?” He asks smirking. I grin back.   
“I don’t think so,” I say laughing softly.   
“How about a cookie, then? On the house, of course,” he winks at me. Actually, _un-ironically_ , winks at me. And suits it.   
“Sure,” I reply blushing. I feel Phil’s arm tense around me. _What is he doing?_  
“Okay, so that’ll be $4.25 for a tall S’mores Frappuccino, Phil” the boy behind the counter says but he doesn’t stop looking at me.  
“Great,” Phil says removing his arm from my back to get his wallet out, “there you go.”   
As soon as he gets his card back Phil puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me to the end of the counter.   
“What was that about?” I ask him as he steps away from me.  
“What was what?” He asks with wide eyes.  
“You know what. The arm around the waist? The hand on my shoulder?”  
“I always put my arm around your shoulders,” he says shrugging.   
“You really don’t.”  
“Well, I did now, what’s the big deal?”  
“It’s not a big deal, I just want to know _why_.”  
“Are you telling me now I need a reason to hug my friend?”  
“I didn’t say that, it’s just… well, you usually have one.”  
“I hugged you like an hour ago.”  
“Yeah, because I was _sobbing_. That’s a reason.”  
“Are you trying to come up with your own conspiracy theory?”  
“You are impossible sometimes, Phil.”  
“You still love me though,” he says smiling.  
“I do,” I reply rolling my eyes.  
“Thank you,” Phil says and at first I think he’s thanking me for loving him but then he reaches around me for his coffee. I turn around to face the counter and there’s a single cookie on a plate with a napkin on top of it, which Mark is currently removing.  
“Uh, I’d like that,” I tell him pointing at the napkin, smiling.  
“There are more over there," he says signaling with his head at the napkin dispenser.  
“Okay…” I say as Mark turns around and then I notice he’s written something on the paper. “Did you know he was listening?” I ask Phil.  
“Hm?” He says distracted, already sipping from his glass.   
“Mark. Did you see him on the counter when I said that I loved you?”  
“Oh, guess I did.”  
“Well he’s not going to know we mean that as friends, now is he?” I say suddenly annoyed.  
“I thought you weren’t actually looking for anything with him.”  
“Then _why_ are we here?”  
“I just wanted to get coffee. Get out of the house. Try to distract you from… you know.”  
“Well you did an outstanding job,” I say taking the plate and heading for the place I sat at last time.   
“This is not our usual spot,” Phil says as I sit down.  
“It is today,” I reply. I am so annoyed I could scream even though I really wasn’t looking to start something with Mark. I’m more annoyed about Phil’s behavior.   
“Why are you so upset, Dan?”  
“I just don’t understand. There was no need to pull that shit with Mark. He’s a nice guy.”  
“Oh really? You gathered that from the two 30-second conversations you’ve had?”  
“You know what? I’m done talking about this. Just drink your coffee,” I say crossing my arms.   
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You are too dramatic.”  
“And you are awful at following simple instructions.”  
“This was supposed to make you feel better not angrier.”  
“If it helps, I’d totally forgotten about the idiotic trip. Of course now you’ve reminded me of it, so there’s that.”  
He mumbles something but he’s too quiet and the world is too loud for me to able to hear him.  


**Phil**

“I never get it right,” I mumble too softly for him to hear but it feels nice to get it out of my chest.   


**Dan**

We don’t spend much longer at Starbucks. Phil’s heart was in the right place –at the beginning– but I’m still unbearably frustrated about Michigan saying no to the trip. It literally makes no sense. I mean, obviously it does, but if there’s a chance I’ll die during the surgery I might as well do whatever the fuck I want while I can. Also, even when they remove my lung, I might still not be cancer-free. Phil’s gone to his bedroom already, he said he was knackered and that we have to wake up early tomorrow to get some of the tests done. I should be sleeping as well. I need to have so many tests taken and less than two weeks to get them all done in time.   
Less than two weeks until I find out whether I get to live.   
I dug out the list as soon as Phil went to sleep and I’m now staring at it. It was very foolish of me to choose something so unmistakably impossible for my fifth last deed. I crumble the paper in my fist and then throw in across the room. I can feel hot tears stinging my eyes as the frustration climbs up my throat.   
I try to tell myself that it’s not over yet, that it’s all or nothing until I die. I get up and pick up the damaged page from my floor, not because I believe what I’m saying but because I don’t want Phil to accidentally find it when he’s confidently barging in here. I bury the list deep in my trashcan under a pile of old papers and then turn off the light letting the darkness swallow me up and bury me as well.  



	14. Chapter 14

**Dan**

I called my parents early today to let them know I have my surgery scheduled for August 12th. My mum wanted to come immediately to be there with me for all the tests but I told her Phil had already signed up to be my nanny for the next 11 days. She wasn’t too happy about it.   
Phil is currently running around the apartment trying the gather everything we need, from papers to permits to money. I watch him go from place to place instead of helping him because I believe I deserve to indulge myself a little before I’m poked with needles and put inside machines. We are not getting all the tests done today, which I’m grateful for because getting tested might just be one of the worst things in the world but I also wish I could get it over with today.   
“Okay I think we are ready,” Phil says as he comes back into the living room. “I’ll just call for a ride.”  
I’m leaning against a wall, arms and legs crossed, attempting to look as relaxed as possible even though there’s unbearable turmoil inside my head at the moment. I don’t know what I’m nervous about, it’s not like taking these tests is going to kill me.   
It’s the fact that I might fail them that’s going to kill me.  
You can’t really fail these type of tests, that’s not the right term, but they might turn up that I’m not healthy enough for the surgery and then I would have to go back to chemotherapy and accept that there’s nothing I can do but rely on faith and destiny and both of those things are bullshit.   


**Phil**

Dan’s standing like he’s about to go for pizza with some friends rather than get tested for what could possibly save his life. He woke up really early, took a shower, shaved and called his parents. I know this because he told me– not because I was spying on him. And because he smells really nice and his hair is less frizzy than usual.   
“The driver’s almost here,” I tell him, “we should get going.” He’s staring at the wall thinking hard about something. There is a notable contrast between the expression on his face and his stance.  
“Okay, yeah,” he says.  
We make our way down the stairs, me in front of him. He’s out of breath by the time we reach the street. We get into the car and he’s quiet during the whole ride to the hospital, leaving it to me alone to have a conversation with the cabbie about football.   
When we get to the hospital, we get a little lost trying to find the right building so when we finally do Dan’s taking deep breaths.   
I tell him to sit down and then I pay for the first lot of tests. The receptionist tells me to wait until Dan’s name appears on the screen, that that’s how we’ll know when it is our turn. I thank her and sit next to my friend. He’s biting his lip again and fidgeting on his chair.   
“Are you nervous, Dan?” I ask him.  
“I am perfectly calm,” he replies.  


**Dan**

I am not perfectly calm.  
It smells like chlorine and disease and death in here and my hands feel clammy against my bouncing leg. Everyone’s talking really loudly and there are machines beeping everywhere, calling names and tests and doctors.   
“Are you sure? You seem a bit…jumpy.”  
“Can we step outside for a moment?” I ask him standing up. I just need all the noise to stop.   
“Okay, but the lady said it was almost your turn.”  
“Please?”  
Phil just nods. We step out of the room but we’re still inside the building and there are people everywhere. I scan the place for somewhere to hide and spot a janitor’s closet. I walk towards it and surprisingly it’s unlocked.  
“ _What are we doing_?” Phil says as I drag him inside.  
“We are hiding in a janitor’s closet,” I reply closing the door behind us.  
“I see that but _why_?”  
“Because I’m scared, Phil.”  
“Of the people out there?”  
“Of the tests.” Saying it out loud makes it more real, I feel a little tornado forming at the bottom of my stomach and not in a good way.   
“Oh.”  
“I just… I really want this to work out, you know? The surgery–it’s my last chance at a normal… semi-normal life.”  
“That’s not true, chemotherapy was effective on the lymph nodes and it might just work out on the rest of your lung.”  
“I don’t want to do chemotherapy again though.”  
“You’ll do well in your tests, Dan, I promise.”  
And that last word sends me over the edge. They remind me of the first few weeks after I was diagnosed when he was positive enough for the both of us. Tears start streaming down my face and I choke back a sob.   
“You don’t know that, Phil.” I say helplessly. I can’t believe I have cried two days in a row. What a martyr.   
He steps forward –he doesn’t have to move a lot, the space is pretty limited– and holds me close to his chest. “But I do, Dan. I _do_. It’s going to be okay, _you_ are going to be okay.”   
I’m somehow crying onto his shirt even though I’m taller than him. “Are you sure?”  
“Positive,” he replies hugging me tighter and smoothing down my hair, “and then we’ll have to figure out how to gain all of our subscribers back. I’m sure we’ll crack a plan with all the free time and energy we’ll have.”   
It’s lovely to picture that: getting to live long enough to plan out what to do with my life.   
“So how are we going to get out of here without people getting the wrong idea?” I say wiping my face with the back of my sleeve. I look at Phil’s chest and I’ve definitely ruined his shirt. It was one of my favorites, as well.   
“Pretty sure that ship sailed the moment you dragged me in here,” he says eyeing me with concern.   
“I’m fine,” I tell him.  
“It’s all right if you are not,” he replies. He’s always telling me everything’s all right even when it isn’t.   
“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt.”  
“It’ll dry,” he says with a dismissive hand.   


 

By the time we are done with all the tests scheduled for today it’s way past lunchtime and neither Phil nor I have eaten. Me because they told me not to and Phil because I told him to stay with me at all times. Like a scared infant.   
Everyone was really nice, all the nurses called me things like ‘sweetie’ and ‘honey’, further assuring me that I am indeed a child. A 27-year-old child.   
“Do you want to have dinner somewhere?” Phil asks me. We are standing outside the hospital waiting for the Uber to pick us up.   
“Can we order take-out instead?”  
“Sure, got anything in mind?”  
“Chinese?”  
“Sounds good.”  



	15. Chapter 15

**Dan**

“Phil, when do I have to take the rest of my tests?”  
“Monday, supposedly the same day we get the results from the ones you already took.”  
“And my appointment with Michigan is…?”  
“On Thursday.”  
“Okay, okay, cool and if everything goes well then I’d be checked in one week from today, right?”  
“Right, next Friday.”  
“So we’ve got the whole weekend free?”  
I swear Phil’s eyes light up. “We do, do you feel like doing something?”  
“I mean it’s pretty late already to go out today,” I reply. I spent most of the day practicing a song on the piano; I’ve almost learned it whole. I also considered finishing the book I started before Phil came back but then I decided I’d rather go out, in a very unusual manner for me.   
“I guess,” Phil says disappointed.  
“But I _do_ feel like going out.”  
He smiles at me then. My smile. “What do you have in mind?”  
“Don’t know, feel free to choose. I just need some fresh air.”  
“I think I know a place.”  


 

“We’ve known each other for almost ten years and you never thought to mention _this_?”  
He shrugs. “The topic never came up.”  
“It’s amazing, Phil.”  
“It’s _AmazingPhil_.”  
I roll my eyes and then turn around to get a better look of the small room.   
“My family and I used to come here whenever we came to London.”  
“Seriously, how come you never mentioned it?”  
“I’m pretty sure this hill is common knowledge, Dan.”  
“Yeah, everything over _there_ ,” I say pointing at a group of tourists a couple hundred meters away. “How did you even find this hiding spot?”  
“Exploring… and falling– I rolled down a hill and found this trying to make my way back to my parents.”  
“Finally your clumsiness pays off,” I tell him. We are at Primrose Hill under a small bridge… actually, we are _inside_ one of the pillars that serves as the foundation for the bridge. The door to it is pretty much invisible, covered by moss and dead leaves, and the room itself is not grand –the ceiling is really low, we are both crouching and there’s barely any space to move– but the fact that there’s a _room_ that no one knows about, under a bridge that everyone walks over, is what excites me.   
“I thought we could actually hang out in the park but figured it’d be nicer after the tourists are gone and considered this would be a good place to wait.” “It’s perfect,” I say sitting down against the rock wall.  
Phil frowns at me. “I’m pretty sure you’ve just ruined your jeans.”  
“What’s an adventure if you don’t get a little dirty?”  
He huffs. “There’s no need to ruin your clothes in order to have fun.”  
“You sound like my mum talking about drinking alcohol. Just come on, sit with me.”  
“We are too long,” he says as he tries to sit down.  
We are. I’m hugging my knees but I take we could spread our legs at least ¾ of the way. “You can just hug your knees like me.”  
“So you really like it here?”   
“I do! I feel like I’m in a spy movie, if there’s another trap door inside this room I’ll lose my mind.”  
“I’m afraid this room is as mysterious as it gets.”  
“This room is enough,” I reply smiling softly.   
Our arms are touching from our shoulders to our elbows and I do have some room to scoot over to my right, but then Phil rests his head on my left shoulder.  


 

We wait, until it gets too cold for most tourists (they were either not wearing a jacket or wearing hoodies, they should’ve been warned that the weather here fluctuates every two seconds) to come out from under the bridge and sit down on a patch of grass that’s surrounded by small white country flowers.   
Phil packed us blankets and hot cocoa. He’s gotten so organized ever since I got sick– he’s always making checklists and setting up alarms. I wish I could’ve at least gained that but I still procrastinate at any given opportunity and even though I don’t have many responsibilities these days I still forget the few I have.   
The sky has turned black above us and the starts feel close enough to touch. It’s particularly rare being able to stargaze in London, there are always too many lights, and so I try to take in as much of the sky as possible.  
Pretty much the whole park seems to have emptied out– it feels like the only people left here are Phil and I even though I can hear the low mumble of music coming from somewhere. At least it’s a good playlist. They are currently listening to Panic! At the Disco, it really does amaze me that teenagers now are listening to the same bands I used to listen to when I was a teenager. I haven’t listened to Panic’s new album but Brendon Urie’s vocals are very easy to recognize.   
“Here,” Phil says handing me a blanket and keeping one for himself.  
“Thank you, it never would’ve occurred to me,” I say honestly.  
“I checked the weather before we left and I know how easy it is for you to get cold so,” he says shrugging.   
I bump my shoulder against his before wrapping the soft fabric around my shoulders and lying down. It’s at moments like these that I wish I knew anything about stars. Literally anything, I’d be happy knowing the name of at least one constellation.   


**Phil**

The grass is freezing beneath us but Dan has decided to fully lie on it anyway. I mean, I get it, the sky is sparkling like it never seems to when we are in our flat. I turn my back slightly to look at him and his curls have gotten so long they are spilling all over the grass. The moonlight glows white on his skin turning it as pale as mine.   
“So, okay, here’s all I know about astrology,” I say lying down next to him, “those three starts you see next to each other,” I continue pointing, “are Orion’s belt.”   
“What?” He says turning his head to face me.  
“Look up!” I tell him.  
“Where did you learn this?”  
“I don’t know, probably in one of the many trivia shows I watched during my childhood or maybe at school.”  
“You are just full of surprises today, aren’t you?”  
“In any case, if you connect the dots you’ll be able to actually see Orion himself, I always find it easier to spot the three stars first. Do you see them?”  
“Mhm.”  
“Now, above those there’s another group of three stars but these ones aren’t next to each other, they’re more like in a triangle shape, the middle one higher than the two ones at its sides. See?”  
“Oh my God, I do! Is that like his chest, then?”  
“Yeah! And he’s holding a bow on his right hand, can you connect the six stars? The make a sort of crooked arch.”  
“Woah…”  
“I know.”  
“Thank you for bringing me here.”  
“Thank you for letting me.”  
We lie there covered in moonlight with stars showing us the way for a brief moment and then we sit up. The skyline extends in front of us and it all seems so far away. Like the only people left in the world are Dan and I.  


**Dan**

And for a moment it was enough. Sitting with him, under the soft silver light with the wind blowing through our hair, was enough.   
It was enough to be his best friend, because I _knew_ , in that moment I just knew, that he was the most important person in my life, and that I was his.  



	16. Chapter 16

**Dan**

The rest of the week goes by so quickly it shocks me when Phil tells me my appointment with Doctor Michigan is tomorrow.   
“What do you mean tomorrow?”  
“Tomorrow’s Thursday.”  
“It is?”  
“Where’s your head, Dan?”  
I left it at Primrose Hill. “I don’t know, it’s just, time went by so fast.”  
“That’s good though, right?”  
“I mean, if I do well on the tests, then sure.”  
“ _When_ , not if.”  
I sigh. “When did cheery, positive Phil make a comeback?”  
“Since you made me leave you for a week.”  
“I didn’t make you!”  
“Yeah you did, you told me, at least twice a day, everyday, for two weeks, that I should go and that there’s nothing you hate more then hanging out with my family.”  
“I didn’t say that exactly…” I reply with remorse.  
“Well, something along those lines. Pretty sure I got most of it right.”  
“I’m sorry, okay? But clearly it did you some good since you are all confident about my health again.”  
He grimaces. “I’m just trying to be optimistic for both of our sake’s. There’s no point in being sour and negative constantly.”  
“You mean realistic?”  
“I mean cynical.”   
“Potato, potahto.”   
The day after Primrose Hill, I swear to God, I felt drunk, like I’d downed a whole bottle of tequila and washed it down with some vodka. I kept giggling at everything Phil said and slurring my words. I was a mess. Then on Sunday, I felt impossibly hung-over, Phil convinced me to go out again despite my headache and we walked around a park (mostly sat) and went for dinner at a local restaurant that he’s obsessed with (I think he fancies the waitress) (he always picks the same table).   
Being around Phil now that he’s all optimistic again has been weird, on Monday I had a full on panic attack right before taking the rest of my tests and Phil remained calm during the whole thing. It felt like they always do, like I was dying, like something in me was collapsing, like it was the whole world against me, and Phil just told me to breathe. He helped me snap out of it, get my breathing back to normal, and then just continued as chirpy as ever. Before, a scene like that would’ve put him on edge for the rest of the day but he just kept giving me comforting pats as if checking both my knees and my shoulders were still there.   
Personally, I think he’s putting too much faith in this one thing. Of course I want it to work, that’s all I currently crave (for the most part), for the surgery to go all right so everyone in my life can be all right.   
But even if it does, the cancer could come back, just the same or in a different way or in many different ways. I just don’t want to have high hopes because I’ll never be safe again. I’ll never be able to have a headache and think ‘oh, I’ll just take an Aspirin’, I’ll always go to the worst-case scenario– the most realistic one too.   
I’m not being cynical Phil is just a fool.   
Yesterday he talked about us going back to Japan some time next year as if I wasn’t denied going to _Brighton_ a week ago.   
_“This is different,”_ he said, _“you’ll be healthy by then.”_  
He’s making plans for the future as if we get to have one. As if this whole cancer stage of my life was just a collective nightmare. But the theory is flawed because nightmares never have good parts in between and I can’t say my life has been absolute horror since I was diagnosed. I still got to watch a private screening of the last Marvel movie that came out. I still get to listen to new music and play some more. I still get to see my family (even more than before). I still get to live with my best friend.   
It’s not all _bad_.   
“Do you want to do something today?” Phil asks now.  
“Like what?”  
“Anything you want,” he says and I raise an eyebrow. “Within reason,” he continues.   


 

“This weather sucks,” I say trying to hide as much of my face as possible with my jacket. The moment we stepped outside of the tube it started pouring. “I thought you loved the rain.”  
“I do. When I’m inside and it serves as calming background noise, not when it’s hitting me on the face.”  
“Well at least you listened to me and brought your jacket, otherwise you’d be completely soaking wet right now,” Phil says.   
We are almost at the steps of the entrance. There are not very many but ever since the Book of Mormon Incident, the sight of stairs makes me slightly uneasy.   
“You okay?” Phil asks.  
“Yeah, I’m great. Which gallery do you fancy seeing today?”  
“I think last time we were here we missed Greece and Rome.”  
“True, just try not to get lost again, okay?” Even though I’ve never taken a toddler to a museum I can guarantee that making sure Phil doesn’t get lost is 1000 times harder than making sure a kid stays put.   
“Okay, dad.”   


 

Perhaps choosing to go the British Museum in August wasn’t our brightest moment but museum dates are always cute, or so they said. I guess they’re cute when children are not crying because _‘I’m bored mommy, can we leave now?’_ and _‘Mum, I’m hungry!’_ and _‘Dad, I’m tired, let’s go!’_ and parents are not shouting because _‘I told you to go to the bathroom before.’_ and _‘We’ll leave in a second, be patient would you?’_ and _‘Stop making a scene, everyone can see you!’_.   
“That’s you,” I tell Phil pointing at the most bizarre bust I can see nearby.  
“That’s your mum,” he replies pointing at a statue behind me.   
I turn around and frown, “my mum has a head.”   
We keep up the game pointing at the different quirky statues we find along the way. The amount of visitors never goes down but there are less irritated children and angry parents as it starts to get darker outside.   
I take longer on the marble statues than on anything else in the gallery, it will never stop amazing me how _rock_ can look like _that_. So soft, almost translucent, like if you touched the clothes some of the statues are wearing you’d realize it is actually light fabric.   
I wonder about the person that carved the statue that stands tall in front of me and I ponder how many people will remember their name once they leave this museum. Because, of course their art survived the passage of time, it remained relevant and probably will still be for the next 1000 years or so, but when people see this, what are they actually looking at? Probably the person or character this was carved after, but what about the person that did all the work? How easy is it to be forgotten even when you created something so beautiful?   
How long will it be until YouTube deletes my channel after I’m dead? How long until bookstores stop stocking my books? Maybe a couple years until all my social media is gone and then the books, well, they’re Phil’s too, I guess it’s up to him then, to make them our legacy, to make them last. At least for a little longer.   


****

**Phil**

Dan is so submerged in the art and history surrounding us that he’s pretty much forgotten he has difficulty standing for long periods of time and walking considerable distances.   
“Ready to go?” I ask him. He’s furrowing his brows at a marble sculpture.   
“Hm?”  
“What’s so interesting about this statue?”  
“It’s really pretty. It almost looks real, don’t you think?”  
“I’m pretty sure people are regularly not that pale.”  
“Well I wouldn’t know, how could I when I live with you?”  
“Ha-ha. Sod off.”  
“Are you ready to leave?” He asks finally turning to look at me.  
“I asked first.”  
“You did?”  
“Yup.”  
“Oh, sorry, well, I am.”  
“Let’s go then.”  
“And can we take a cab this time? From what I can hear the rain hasn’t stopped.”  
“Sure, sure.”   


* * *

“Hey Dan?” I say knocking on his bedroom door.   
“Yeah, come in!”  
“Ready for tomorrow?”  
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”  
“I just wanted to tell you…” The words get lost on their way up my throat.  
“Aren’t you going to come in?” He asks confused.   
I’m standing at his door when I say “no, I just wanted to tell you something real quick.”  
“Okay…?”  
I take in a deep breath and let words pour out. “Whatever… Whatever happens tomorrow I’ll be there, you know?” I’m looking at my feet and rummaging my hair. “And we’ll get through it together. Whether it’s the surgery or not, I’ll be there and we’ll work it out together, like we always do. I just, I guess I just wanted you to be sure that you’re not alone in this and that I’ve got your back.” I look up then, Dan’s staring at me from his bed with soft eyes.  
“Thanks Phil.”  
“Now get some sleep, we need to be awake in like five hours.”  
He just nods and smiles softly. I nod back and turn around closing the door behind my back as I step into the hallway.  



	17. Chapter 17

**Dan**

I truthfully have no idea why I’m so nervous but my hands are sweaty and my stomach has been falling down a well ever since we walked in here. Doctor Michigan is sat across from us looking at my test results and writing things down on a white piece of paper. The big window behind him reminds me of the last time I was sat here feeling anxious with a confident Phil by my side– the time the doctor told me I _failed_. The time I thought about jumping out that very window behind him. The time Phil got so angry, so frustrated, he started yelling.   
“Everything seems to check out, all your levels are good and your organs are healthy. Your right lung is in perfect condition, sufficient to carry on by itself. You officially qualify for the surgery, Daniel,” Michigan says now, smiling.   
“I do?” I ask with caution.   
“You do, I’d like you to check in tomorrow so you can be on observation throughout the weekend and we can operate you on Monday.”  
“Seriously?” I’m still waiting for the bad news to come.  
“Indeed, I’ll write you a list of all the things you ought to bring but you’re ready, Daniel.”  
“Ah, that’s so good, thank you, Doctor,” Phil says.   
They keep talking and discussing issues related to the surgery but my mind floats far away.   
_It’s happening._  
_I’m getting the surgery._  
_I’m getting better._   
“… right, Dan? Dan?” Phil pokes my arm dragging me back to reality.  
“Huh?” I reply focusing my eyes on Phil’s face.  
“Nevermind… We’ll see you tomorrow morning then,” he says standing up and shaking Michigan’s hand.  
“Sure thing, fellas,” the doctor replies.   


* * *

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you change your facial expression so fast in such a small amount of time,” Phil says.  
“What?” I reply confused.  
“In the past five minutes at least 37 emotions have crossed your face.”  
“I mean, I’m _happy_ ,” I say, “at least partly, but the rest of me is being an asshole and not letting the merry side win.”  
“Well, I’m siding with happy, all the negative emotions can fuck off.”  
I smile then, “I really want them to.”  
“You _can_ allow yourself to be happy, you know?”  
“What if the surgery doesn’t work?”  
“If they weren’t sure it would work they wouldn’t be putting themselves through all the effort.”  
“The cancer could come back.”  
“True, and a meteorite could hit tonight but we can’t constantly worry about all the awful things that might happen, otherwise we wouldn’t be able to _live_ at all.”  
“You are _so_ wise, Phil,” I say, teasing him.  
“ _I know, right_? I should write a book to put all of my advice in,” he replies.  
“What would your first piece of advice be?”  
“To _‘Never Place New Shoes on the Table’_.”  
I roll my eyes, “that’s the worst one.”  
“Just because you’re not superstitious doesn’t mean other people aren’t either.”   
“Still, I think you could come up with something better.”   
“Oh really?” He says taking a step closer to me, tilting his head, “what would _you_ write?”  
“Look,” I reply moving my face right into his personal space, “I have a whole series on my channel where I give advice. I feel like I’ve given out more than enough at this point.”  
“Fine,” he moves his head back, “you win this round, Howell.”  


 

The rest of the day is quite uneventful; Phil stays on his computer for the most part, probably googling statistics and success rates. I stay on mine too but writing instead of reading; one of the things on my list is to finish composing a book (not about superstitious advice) but so far I have not made much progress.   
Writing this third book is turning out to be a bigger challenge than I imagined at first. I chose this to be one of my five things because I thought it would be easy, I thought, _well, since this is just for me it doesn’t have to be perfect and I don’t have to worry about being offensive or non-inclusive, there’s no need for it to be perfect_ , but of course my traits aren’t things I can just turn off, the perfectionist in me doesn’t go away with the flick of a switch.   
So far I’ve written two pages, all of it stream of consciousness, and reading it now I realize it’s a mess. The whole thing was supposed to be stream of consciousness, just me pouring into the keyboard whatever crossed my mind, but the need to give it structure has overpowered me. I reread my words trying to give them a meaning in the eyes of an outsider, I try to divide my dreams and hopes into paragraphs and compound sentences. I rack my head for big words and then words that roll out of my lips like a song.  
The book is turning into an autobiography– a memoir. _You can’t embellish a non-fiction memoir_ is what I keep telling myself as I try to keep it all down to earth but my heart is full of feelings and my brain is full of thoughts and my life deserves to be embellished even if for only this one time.   


 

“Dan?” Phil says knocking on my open door.  
“Yes, Phil?”  
“Why are you still awake? We have to leave really early for the hospital.”  
“It’s not that late.”  
“It’s 3 A.M., Dan.”  
“ _What_?” I look at the top right corner of my MacBook and holy shit it’s fifteen minutes to four.   
“Lost track of time?”  
“Yeah, I guess so. Fuck, I’m going to be so tired tomorrow.”  
“I wouldn’t worry too much, you’ll probably be able to sleep at the hospital. Did you pack everything I texted you?”  
“Yeah, it’s all on the leather backpack, are we taking just that one or the galaxy one as well?”  
“I think both, we have to take a lot of stuff.”  
“True and anyway, why are you awake?” I ask him studying his face, he doesn’t actually look like he’s been awake this whole time, his hair is a mess and his eyes are slightly puffy.  
“Because you woke me up! First with the pacing and then with all the reading, I thought the only times you read out loud is when you are reading back to yourself what you’ve just written. I remember this because sleeping in this house during TABINOF and DAPGO was hell.”  
“Did you hear what I was reading?” I try to be cool but surely even the queen and her corgis can hear the panic in my voice.   
“It was more of a constant mumble than actual words. Why? What were you reading?”  
“Something I wrote,” I have no problem with Phil knowing I’m writing, just with him knowing _what_ I’m writing.   
“Oh?”  
“It’s nothing, just trying to pass the time.”  
“Well, clearly it worked wonders.”   
“I’m sorry for waking you, Phil.”  
“Whatever, just go to sleep or I’ll have to drag you out of that bed tomorrow.”  
“How early are we talking about?”  
“Not that early, nine in the morning.”  
“Nine is well early.”  
“You’ll survive,” he says smiling and with that he turns around and leaves.   
“Phil!” I call him back perhaps a bit too loudly for this time at night, or morning, I suppose.  
“Oh my God, _what_?” He says reappearing at my door with wide eyes.  
“Could you turn off the light, please?” I ask in a soft voice, smiling really widely.  
“I hate you,” he says even more softly before turning it off and going back to his room.   
I stare at the darkness not really focusing on anything. I’ve got two days to mentally and physically prepare for this surgery, which is nice, except for the fact that I’ll be getting ready for it in a hospital and I hate hospitals.   
I hope this time my room has a nice cozy couch for Phil to sleep in because I don’t plan on sending him home at all during my stay.   


 

**Phil**

“You have to go home, Phil.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Not right now, but like, to sleep.”  
“I will do no such thing.”  
“Why are you so stubborn?”  
“Why don’t you want me to stay?”  
“Because–”  
“The couch is big enough for me to lay down on this time and that’s saying a lot,” I cut him in.  
“But–”  
“Because I’m 6 foot 2.”  
“I know and–”  
“I brought my pillow and all.”  
“Yes, I see that, but–”  
“It’s also really soft.”  
“Look Phil–”  
“No Dan, _you look_ , if I want to stay here and be with you during the night then that’s exactly what I will do, I don’t care how much kicking and screaming you do.  
He crosses his arms, “that’s not fair.”  
“Life isn’t fair, get over it,” I say crossing my arms as well.   
“You are the worst.”  
“Too bad you are stuck with me.”  
“I see you boys are settling in just fine,” a nurse says as he walks in.   
“We sure are,” I say shoving my hands into my pockets.  
“Will you be staying overnight?” The nurse asks me as he is checking Dan’s IV and heart rate monitor.  
“I will.”  
“If you find it to be uncomfortable you can actually pull the couch out so it’s wider.”  
“Really? That’s good to know, thank you so much,” I say smiling. Dan on the other hand looks like he’s about to get out of his bed and throw it out the window. I know he wants me to stay, he just likes to disagree with everything and everyone when he’s nervous. Last time he was like this was before some awards where we had to perform and someone told him we would be out right before a YouTuber I can’t remember but he insisted that we were the last ones and he wouldn’t believe anyone until I showed him the email where they very clearly specified we were the second to last act.   
“If you two need anything just press the button over there,” he says pointing at a small white circle by Dan’s bed, “and I’ll be here in a jiffy.”   
“Thank you so much, Darren,” says Dan looking up at the nurse from under his eyelashes. _Right, he also does that when he’s nervous._   
“Are you over your fit?” I ask my friend as soon as Darren is out the door.  
“I am… for now, come night I don’t know.”  
“You stress me out.”  
“Shut up, I’m a delight to be around.”  
“So what do you want to do first, I brought a bunch of board games that only require two players, perhaps a few too many.”  
“I see you had your own list of necessities besides what Michigan asked for, no wonder we had to bring two backpacks.”  
“Well duh. I also brought the Switch, I thought it would be really entertaining to see your heart rate while we’re playing Mario.”  
“So what you are telling me is that you want to expose me,” he says putting his palm very dramatically against his chest.  
“I do love it when you are exposed.”  
“That sounds bad,” Dan says laughing.  
“Oh God, shut up,” I reply laughing as well.   


 

**Dan**

“No, no, no! Fuck! Yes, YES, _YES!_ ” I steal one of Phil’s blue balloons leaving him only with two.   
“Stop! _NOOOOO!_ I hate battle mode!”  
“Is everything okay?” A nurse says bursting into the room.  
I pause the game and look up embarrassed, perhaps playing Mario Kart at a hospital wasn’t the best idea.   
“Sorry, we were just playing a videogame,” Phil says.  
The nurse frowns and walks towards my heart rate machine. “Your pulse is really high, I suggest you two do something less exciting.”  
“Of course,” I say dropping the control on my lap.  
“We have to keep a record of your vitals during your stay here, if anything looks odd they won’t operate you,” she says eyeing Phil who’s currently sat next to me on the bed.   
“He’s okay, it is just a game, there’s no need for you to worry him talking like that,” Phil tells her squaring his shoulders.  
The middle-aged woman narrows her eyes before leaving without saying anything else.  
“Someone’s in a mood,” I tell Phil. “What was her deal?”  
“Probably hasn’t slept since last week,” he replies. “But I told you it would be fun to see your pulse go nuts.”   
“Yeah, well, apparently the hospital staff does not agree.”  
“I’m guessing the bigger issue here was us yelling curses.”   
“Geez Phil, didn’t I tell you to keep it G rated?”  
“I wasn’t the one dropping f-bombs!”  
“Sure, sure.”  
“At least your pulse is back to normal now,” he says looking at the screen, his hair brushing against mine. “Lucky for us I also brought Scrabble.” He grabs my control from my lap then and suddenly my pulse starts going up again.   
“Apparently the idea of Scrabble is also wildly exciting for my heart,” I say quickly.  
“Hm, finding appropriate entertainment might be more challenging than I thought.”   



	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tis a long one. also, major 'the great gatsby' spoilers ahead in case you haven't read it.

**Dan**

My first day at the hospital was okay, Michigan came by around lunch instead of in the morning, said he had an emergency with another patient. Besides that nothing of relevance happened, Phil and I played a couple rounds of Scrabble and I obliterated him both times so he quit and we watched Netflix instead. After dinner (he went down to the cafeteria to get some real food for himself and brought it back up to the room) we decided to have an early night given that I had kept us up until 4 A.M. before and we were both running on Low Power Mode.   
He’s still sleeping and the couch he is currently resting on _does_ look comfortable which eases my guilt slightly. Of course I wasn’t able to convince him to go home, and anyway it’s not like I actually wanted him to. I think he knows that, that I want him to stay, he has a way of knowing things without me actually having to say them out loud. That’s how our psychic connection works, communicating through a thousand mile stares and nods.   
I went to bed with my phone (because I’m sick in the head) and I think I pressed it against my face while I slept because my right cheek feels sore and dented. I look at the hour to see how much time to kill I have before it’s acceptable to wake up Phil but then I realize he already is awake.  
“Go back to sleep,” he mumbles against his pillow.  
“ _You_ go back to sleep,” I reply.  
“Why are you awake so early?”  
“You don’t even know what time it is.”  
“The sun’s not even out yet so I’m guessing _early_ is an accurate adjective.”  
“You don’t have to stay up, I want to get some reading done before the surgery. Come on, you’re still short on sleep hours.”  
“Are you sure?” He says with his eyes already closed.  
“Goodnight, Phil.”  
I want to finish The Great Gatsby while I’m here, take advantage of all the spare time I have instead of spending it staring at the wall and thinking bad thoughts. I remember I got about halfway through when Phil was gone so I should be able to finish it this weekend. It’s a really short book.  
I throw my legs to the side of the bed and stand carefully trying not to pull the wrong cables, I hold the metal base of my I.V. and walk towards the small table where Phil left both of our backpacks, I rummage through mine, take out my EarPods and the book and get back on the mattress.   
I open the book where I left off, I placed a dried up post-it in between the pages because I could not find a single bookmark. I realise then that I’m on chapter five out of nine. I frown as I notice how little pages I have left, I do want to finish it but I don’t want it to end. I haven’t watched the movie and it wasn’t on my reading list during school so I don’t actually know how it concludes. I hope Gatsby’s life gets less sad, less shallow; I hope he gets the happy ending he deserves.   


 

I’m almost at the end of chapter seven when the sun starts shining through the open curtains, drowning the room in yellow tones, catching on Phil’s hair and making it look ginger in some places. I wonder when it was the last time he dyed it.   
Much like the green light Gatsby stares at from his house, much like Daisy, Phil is always so close, sometimes too close, but never enough.   
Perhaps he feels me staring because he sits up.  
“So what are you reading?” He says rubbing his eyes. His quiff is fully standing, almost like a crown of black hair around his head.   
“The Great Gatsby,” I reply closing the book.  
“I only watched the movie, is it any good?” He asks before yawning and running a hand through his messy hair.   
“It is very good, there’s this symbol Fitzgerald uses, a green light… is that in the movie as well?”  
“Uh, yeah, I think so, it’s in like the girl’s house, right?”  
“Daisy, yeah it’s in her dock. During the first chapters that light is the only way Gatsby can feel close to her, to whom he believes is his true love. It’s like a glimmer of hope, you know? Even though he knows he might never get the person he loves most, he stares at the light in hopes that someday, maybe, he will and then he does.   
He meets her again and suddenly the light become pointless, it just loses all of its meaning because he’s as close to Daisy as he could ever be, but even then, even now that he has her, he doesn’t actually. And don’t you think that that’s just so sad, Phil? To have the love of your life _right there_ and not be able to do a single thing to have them?”  
He stares at me frowning, “but how can he have her and not have her?”  
“ _Because_ she’s married.”  
“She could get a divorce.”  
“She could but she won’t, at least I don’t think she will, I haven’t gotten to that part yet, but that’s not the point.”  
“Then what is?”  
“That he can be with the love of his life everyday but he can never actually be with her, no matter how much he tries, how many things he does, it’s just not meant to happen that way.”  
“I don’t think I get it, Dan.”  
“Of course you don’t.”  
A nurse walks in with my breakfast then. She’s all smiles and giggles when she greets us. “I think it’s a good one today,” she says placing the tray on a little table that she moves towards the bed so that it can hover over my lap.  
“I hope so,” I reply half smiling.   
“Ring us if you need anything, honey,” she says as she leaves the room.   
Phil and I eat my (terrible) breakfast in bed and watch Netflix on his laptop. We are in the middle of an episode when my phone stars ringing. It’s my mum telling me that she and my father will be here in an hour, I tell her that there’s no rush and that there’s not much going on but she shushes me and hangs up. I sigh and throw my head against the pillow.  
“Everything okay?” Phil asks me poking the side of my neck.  
I jerk my head up. “You know I have a fucking problem with people touching my neck, Phil!”  
“Sorry!” He giggles not feeling sorry at all. “Was that your mum?”  
“Yeah, she said she’d be here in an hour.”  
“And why does that make you frustrated?”  
“Her stress is contagious.”  
“She’s your mum, of course she’s going to be stressed.”  
“Are _you_ stressed?”  
“I’m in a constant state of stress, Dan, I’ve been stressed ever since I was born.”  
“I thought that was me.”  
“It’s both.”  
“It’s the whole world.”  
“It’s the whole world.”  


 

**Phil**

“But what did the doctor say _exactly_?” Dan’s mum has been scrutinizing both of us ever since she got here and by this point even his dad just looks bored.   
“Literally what I just told you, that everything looks good so far, and that the surgery is scheduled for tomorrow at 12 P.M,” Dan says biting his bottom lip.   
“Love, you can ask the doctor all the questions you want tomorrow, let Dan rest, alright?” Dan’s dad says stepping in.  
“Okay,” she says sitting on the couch. “Is this where you slept, Phil?”  
“Ah, yes, sorry,” I say grabbing my pillow and placing it on top of my backpack.  
Dan’s mum walks over to me then, “you can go home if you wish so, you know, get some proper rest, we’ll stay with Dan.”  
“Actually, the couch was really comfortable, I’m fine.”  
“Seriously, Phil. You’ll want to stay the night again, I suppose.”  
“Well, yeah.”  
“Very well then, go home and get some rest, prepare for tonight.”  
“Alright, okay, I’ll go shower and grab some lunch.”  
“You do that, we’ll be here until you return.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Sure thing, sweetie.”   
I walk towards Dan and before I can anything he says, “what was that about?”  
“Nothing really,” I reply smiling, “she just told me to go home so I can get some rest while they’re here, sort of taking turns to be with you. I thought I’d take a shower, grab lunch and come back as soon as possible.”  
“It sounds like I’m a child, in the middle of a divorce, that the parents have to juggle with.”  
“How is this situation in any way like that?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“I’ll come back soon.”  
“Okay, don’t take too long… or do, I mean, do all you have to do, don’t worry about me.”  
I roll my eyes. “I’ll come back soon,” I repeat gently pushing his curls out of his face with my fingertips, “also, you need a haircut.”   
Dan blushes under my hand as he replies, “my hair has gone really thin, I’d like it to at least be long.”  
“Do you want me to bring you anything from the house?”  
“I forgot my slippers.”  
“Slippers, okay. Anything else?”  
“Nope, don’t think so.”  
I nod and then say a general goodbye to his parents that are currently whispering as if they were plotting something. They smile nervously and wave their hands at me. I step out of the room and head for the elevator. Hospitals are a preview of purgatory, I think, purgatory scrubbed clean.   
As soon as I get home I go into the bathroom to take a shower. I pour enough shampoo on my hand to clean every dog in the country and try to wash the hospital smell out of my hair. I stay under the running hot water longer than necessary and definitely longer than any ecologist would recommend. I try to melt the knots on my back and my neck, turn them into soft, relaxed, pudding. It’s only when my fingertips turn wrinkly that I step out and wrap a towel around my hips. And then I just sit on my bed.  
I proceed –after a good 30 minutes of staring at my dresser– to fully lay down, I didn’t actually get much sleep, not because the couch was uncomfortable but because nurses kept coming in to check on Dan throughout the night. The sun is leaking through my window warming my face and drying my shoulders, I close my eyes and enjoy the heat evaporating away my troubled thoughts.  


 

I wake up in a daze to the sound of my phone going off. Only it’s not an alarm, it’s ringing because someone’s calling me. I sit up way too fast and the room start spinning around me, I fumble around the bed trying to reach my phone but it’s not there. I get up slowly with the walls still playing Mad Tea Party and look around my room until I finally see it on my bedside table.  
“Hello?” I say in a groggy voice.  
“Phil?”  
“That’s me.”  
“Were you sleeping?”  
“What?”  
“Phil, it’s Dan, did I wake you up?”  
“No, what’s up?”  
“Nothing, I’m just bored.”  
“Are your parents not there anymore?” I say as I try to find myself something to wear.  
“They went to get lunch but they aren’t much of an entertainment, anyway.”  
“What did _you_ have for lunch?”  
“Ugh chicken soup and like a boiled apple. Not great, TBH.”  
I laugh but it comes out hoarse, “I haven’t had lunch yet, what should I eat?”  
“Oh, don’t do this to me, I’m already craving Domino’s.”  
“I can’t finish a Domino’s by myself, though.” I put him on speaker as I put on a pair of jeans and throw on a white graphic t-shirt.  
“Sure you can, just don’t order a big one.”  
“I’ll feel guilty though.”  
“No you won’t and you know it.”  
“Yeah, I won’t.”  
“Well, I’ll leave you to get your pizza then.”  
“What will you do to pass the time?”  
“I’ll finish my book.”  
“That sounds like fun.”  
“I mean, yeah, but I only have two chapters left.”  
“I’ll be there before you reach the end.”  
“You are underestimating my reading speed.”  
“Fine, then I’ll be there as soon as you finish it.”  
“Okay.”  
“Bye, Dan.”  
“Hey, Phil?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Get the Texas BBQ.”  


* * *

When I open the door to Dan’s room it’s so quiet I have to go back to check the number and make sure I’m in the right one. His parents should be back by now and his mum is a talker and a pacer. There’s no way his room could be this quiet. I walk slowly praying that they didn’t change him to another place and that I’m not about to walk into a stranger’s room. I peep my head around the corner and see Dan on his bed, his shoulders heaving rapidly.  
“Dan!” I exclaim walking towards his bed. “What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing,” he replies with tears streaming down his face, “this stupid book.”  
“What happened?”  
“You don’t remember?”  
“The movie came out a while ago.”  
“Ga–Gatsby… he dies.”  
“Oh, that’s right.”  
“And… And no one– no one cares! Only Nick!” He dries his tears with the back of his hand and scowls. “One guy called Gatsby’s house, not to confirm his attendance to the funeral, but because he had forgotten a pair of shoes, a pair of ‘tennis shoes’, Phil!”  
“What about Daisy?”  
“Oh, don’t even get me started on her, it was all her fault! He took the blame and then she just took off! I told you he would never have her, and he died for her, in a way… he was killed _because_ of her.”  
“I kind of remember some of it… There was a car accident, right?”  
He looks up at me with wide, red eyes, “Yes, yes, a car accident.”  
“It’s just a book, Dan, it’s okay.”  
“I know, I know but I’m just so angry! People are trash, Phil.”  
“They are.”   
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” he says shaking his head resolutely and drying what’s left of his tears by rubbing both hands against his face.  
“Where are you parents?” I ask trying to distract him.  
“I sent them away, my mum was driving everyone crazy. They haven’t come back since they went to get lunch, she’s really nervous so I told my dad to get her some tea.”  
“She has a right to be nervous.”  
“She does,” he says and pauses for a few seconds before carrying on, “it’s just, I don’t need to feel more anxious than I already am and also having to pretend for her that I am not freaking out is exhausting.”  
“You don’t have to pretend for anyone.”  
“She’s already a wreck, if I started acting like a wreck as well she’d probably lose it.”  


 

**Dan**

The whole time Phil was gone all my mum did was question me about the surgery as if suddenly I had an M.D. and was a specialist on Pneumonectomy procedures. I could actually feel my brain pulsating, by the time I started losing feeling on my hands and I could heart my heart beating I very quietly asked my dad to take her away. When they were done with lunch he texted me that she was no better so I asked him to get her some tea. I used up my time alone to finish Gatsby and by that point it was all too much so of course I started crying.   
Phil’s staring at me disapprovingly but it already feels like my stomach is doing origami on itself (I could barely keep my lunch down), I don’t have it in me to also pretend for my mum. Not this time anyway. I don’t have it in me to pretend for anyone, not even for Phil. If they all want to be here then they will just have to deal with it. They’ll have to deal with me.  
“Will you stop looking at me like that?” I ask Phil.  
“I’m not looking at you like anything.”  
“Yes you are and it’s annoying.”  
“Geez, I’d forgotten how you get when you are hungry, when are they bringing you dinner?”  
“Oh shut up, I’ve been waiting all day for you so that we can continue watching The Crown, can please get on with it?”  
“We certainly can.”   


 

My parents come back halfway through the second episode; my mum with a frantic look and my dad with an apologetic one.   
“So sorry we took so long sweetie, the queues were unimaginable! And the service was pretty bad as well, I might add.”   
“That’s alright mum.”  
“Ah Phil, you are back,” she says walking towards my bed. I still don’t understand what her relationship with Phil is, sometimes she acts like a concerned mother with him and other times she acts like he’s an axe murderer about to attack.  
“Yes, well, Dan was alone,” Phil says sitting straighter. I don’t how he feels about her either. I think he just goes with the motions, when she’s being rude he gets defensive. My mum has nothing to say to that, I _was_ alone, of course she doesn’t know that dad and I conspired against her but still.   
“So who’s taking care of Collin?” I ask trying to lighten the mood. Who doesn’t love a good dog talk?  
“Sarah, our neighbor. You remember her, right? She was the one that told me I should watch that T.V. show I told you about.”  
The rest of the evening we spend it playing some of the board games Phil brought and he wins most times. He’s unforgivably cocky about it too, worst winner if I do say so myself. When the clock hits seven and the visitation hours are over my parents leave, they both hug me before walking out and my mum kisses my forehead. Phil and I stay up talking but only until midnight, after that we both close our eyes and pretend to be asleep.   
That night, like most others, I dream. I’m in the middle of Phil’s room and suddenly I start lighting up, my skin starts glowing gold, my stomach, my chest, my throat, I’m brightening up the whole place and Phil’s pounding on the door. He’s yelling at me to let him in, kicking and punching the door but I’m too mesmerized by own self to care.   
The morning of the surgery we don’t watch Netflix in bed, there’s not a lot of banter either, just a lot of loud silence. Much like in my dream the room is filled with light but in this case I’m the one casting shadows.    


 

“Are you ready?” Michigan asks me as if that matters.  
“Sure,” I whisper, unable to even convince myself that I am. My parents and Phil are standing behind my doctor all staring at me with incredibly different expressions.   
“Very well then,” Michigan says clapping his hands together, “I’ll start getting everything ready, a stretcher-bearer will come for you and he’ll take you down, after that you will be put under general anesthesia as I had already explained you before, alright?”  
I simply nod.  
“I’ll see you in there, Daniel.”   
“I’ll be the one laying on a stretcher in a hospital gown,” I reply weakly.   
He half huffs, half laughs and then disappears into the door.   
“Are you ready?” Phil asks me from what feels like a kilometer away.  
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply trying to pull the corners of my mouth upwards.  
“I’ll be right here waiting for you,” he says stepping forward and softly placing his hand on top of mine.   
“I’ll be getting high in the meantime.”  
“I love you, Dan, it’ll all be fine,” my mum says stepping in between Phil and me.  
“Thanks mum, I love you as well,” I tell her.  
“Excuse me, I’m here to take Daniel,” a man dressed in a blue gown says from the door. He’s pushing a gurney into the room.   
“Of course,” my dad says in his direction, “thank you.”  
The man in blue walks towards me and asks, “do you need help getting into the gurney or can you walk by yourself?”  
“I can walk,” I reply hopping off my bed and onto my vehicle for the night.   
“We’ll see you soon, son,” my dad says clapping my shoulder.  
“I’ll probably be too drugged to notice, but yes, you will,” I reply.  
“Please lay down, Daniel.” The stretcher-bearer says.  
“I’m sorry but what’s your name?” I ask as I obey him.  
He smiles, “I’m called Simon.”  
“It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”  
He pushes me slowly out of the room and once we are out Phil’s right by my head.  
“I just need a second,” Phil says to Simon.  
“We really need to go now,” Simon says.  
“It’ll be a second,” my friend replies and behind him the door to my room closes leaving my parents out of this moment and enclosing only the both of us in our little bubble.  
“What is it, Phil?” I ask. His eyes are big and bright with a tsunami of emotions twirling around.  
He places a hand around my shoulder and smiles. “I just wanted to say see you later.”  
“Not goodbye?”  
“No, no. I’ll see you later.”  
“Of course,” I say and he moves his hand away. I stare at it, at his hand, trying to understand why it feels like he’s just melted an entire candle on my shoulder.   
“We have to go now,” Simon insists and starts pulling me away. He doesn’t say much the rest of the way, he explains me how the anesthesia is going to work and how long the surgery might last, he tries to crack a joke and I pretend to laugh. Finally we get to the operation room and the lights are so bright and white they’re blinding. They move me from the gurney to the bed where they’ll be operating me and a woman comes to ask me numerous questions about my last meal, about the medication I take, about my allergies, about my blood pressure, about my heart, about my weight and height, and I answer as many as I can. They anesthesiologist drugs me once she’s obtained a satisfactory number of answers and suddenly Michigan’s face is hovering over me, a big light is shining behind him giving him a sort of ethereal look.   
“Okay Daniel, I’m going to need you to count down from 20,” my doctor says.  
I clear my throat. “20, 19, 18…” and then it all goes black.   



	19. Chapter 19

**Dan**

When the lights come back on everything’s on fire, the room’s so white I can’t see anything and I can’t decide whether it’s too hot or too cold, I also feel like I might throw up and then I do. People are talking around me, they’re talking to me, they’re talking to each other but I can’t make out any of the conversations, they’re all drowned in the white light. I blink trying to focus my eyes on _something_ , but everything’s still blurry and it’s definitely too cold.   
“Daniel, my name is Penny, the surgery went perfect, we are now taking you to the recovery room. You’ll have to stay there for around an hour so we can check on you, after that you’ll be able to see your family in the ICU. You’ll feel a little drowsy for a while, it’s normal so don’t worry about it.”  
“It’s so bright,” I tell her. I can just make out her blonde hair.  
“Your eyes will adjust soon, don’t worry.”  
But I instead give up and shut my eyes. I can still see flashes of lights, splats of bright colors against my eyelids. I squeeze them tighter but that only makes it worse so I try to count down from 20 again.  


* * *

“Dan!” Phil says. “Dan, I love you so much.” He’s holding my face in between his hands and it’s all clearly a dream. “I’m so glad you are okay,” imaginary Phil says pulling our faces closer together. “I’m so glad it all went well. I was a mess, I don’t think I’ve ever been such a mess.” Our noses are touching and I can feel his breath all over my face and this is such a good dream. He stays still for a moment and looks into my sleepy eyes, there’s a sort of resolution in his like he’s finally made up his mind about something, like a decision’s been made, and then he pulls away and it all goes dark again.   


 

**Phil**

“Oh! Oh, he’s okay!” Dan’s mum says rushing to his side. I step away as if she had pulled me with a rope. She pretty much did. She’s talking really fast and really loud but Dan’s unconscious again. I just about managed to see his brown eyes before he closed them again; I doubt he even realized I was talking to him.   
His chest is moving up and down slowly and rhythmically. There’s a tube coming out of it that’s attached to a sort of bottle. There are a lot of tubes attached to his body and a lot of machines. He looks weird– different, but I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. Doctor Michigan covers Dan’s face again with what seems to be a sort of oxygen mask (he removed it when he saw me walk into the room).   
“The surgery went great, there were no complications and the past hour that he spent on recovery showed that all his vital signs were good,” he says very proudly raising his chin and showing a notorious amount of teeth. “We’ll need to continue keeping an eye on those, his heart rate, breathing, blood pressure and oxygen levels. He should be fully awake in another hour or so, in the mean time let him rest.”  
“Thank you,” Dan’s parents and I say in unison.  
“Of course,” the doctor replies.  
“How long will he have to stay here?” Dan’s dad asks.  
“24 hours in the Intensive Care Unit and between five to seven days in a regular hospital room, it all depends on how fast his recovery is, he’ll have to do some breathing therapy which should be able to aid him in said recovery.”  
“And how long until he can go back to his normal activities?” I ask.  
“He’ll have to be careful for a while, he should be able to do most things after a couple of weeks given that his other lung was in ideal condition, however, rough physical activity should be very limited for at least the first two months.”  
I nod, Dan doesn’t do much physical activity anyway, I doubt this surgery will affect his routine that much in that sense.  
“What do all of those machines do?” I ask pointing with my head.  
“Right now he needs to be connected to a breathing machine otherwise known as a ventilator to give his remaining lung time to catch up and start making up for the loss of the other one, the IV is keeping him hydrated but it does cause bloating, which is why his face looks slightly off, the pipe attached to his chest is a drainage tube which will allow his body to expel everything it doesn’t need anymore.”  
“For how long?”  
“Daniel will only need the respirator for the 24 hours he’ll spend in the ICU, the IV and the drainage tube, however, will remain during the rest of his time at the hospital.”   
“I see,” I simply reply because I can’t think of anything else to say.   
“Very well, if you have any other questions you can text me, Phil. I’ll come back later in the afternoon to check on Daniel.”  
“Thank you so much Doctor Michigan,” Dan’s mum says louder than necessary, “ _I_ will make sure to contact you if anything happens.”  
Doctor Michigan gives me a look and then gives her a small smile. “Of course.”  
Dan’s mum is still hovering over her son as if to show she’s the only one that has a say in what happens to him, which I guess makes sense since she gave birth to her but there’s something about her current attitude that makes me want to roll my eyes all the way into the back of my head. I cross my arms and turn around in an attempt not to claim Dan myself and finally _see_ the ICU. It’s bigger than I thought at first and every single bed is taken, some beds are surrounded by people with pale faces and lost expressions, others are notorious in their lack of visitors. Nurses are walking around carrying plastic bags and pressing buttons and talking calmly to hysterical individuals. I start to feel overwhelmed by the amount of sounds, computers beeping, alarms going off, people crying, people complaining, people talking about their day, people praying, people snoring. It’s a lot.   
“Hey Phil?”  
I turn around, Dan’s mum is still next to him, smoothing down his hair. “Yeah?”  
“You can go home now, the place is quite crowded already and you must be really tired.”  
“I’m fine,” I reply dryly. She just nods and turns her attention back to her son. I turn my attention to him as well. The needle that’s connecting the IV machine to Dan’s arm has turned his skin the color of plums matching perfectly his under eye situation. He looks at least two tones paler than me and he seems particularly fragile. Paper skin and glass bones turned into reality.   
I reach for his hand and then pull back.   


 

When Dan finally wakes up I’m standing so close that I see his eyelashes flutter, his parents do too. He stares at each one of us repeatedly, one by one, on his third go he finally tries to speak and then realizes a mask is covering his face.  
“Excuse me, nurse!” I call a man walking nearby.  
“Yes?”  
“My friend’s awake.”  
“Oh,” he says turning around to look at Dan, “you may remove the mask briefly to speak.”  
“Am I awake?” Dan says in a hoarse low voice holding the mask in his hand.  
I smile, “does this resemble a dream in any way?”  
“You must only take it off when you are going to speak, otherwise please be sure to leave it on,” the nurse says. “Also, try to speak only when absolutely necessary.”  
Dan nods and puts the mask back on taking in a deep breath. I flinch at that and he notices.  
“You are blurry,” he says quickly pulling the mask up and then putting it back on.   
“I’m not, you are just high,” I tell him smiling.  
“The doctor said everything went great, did he tell you that?” Dan’s dad says speaking for the first time since they took Dan into the operation room.  
Dan nods twice and then turns his attention back to me giving me a weird look, he looks almost dumbfounded by my sole presence, I raise my eyebrows at him and he holds the mask but doesn’t move it, he just looks down, looks back up at me and then shakes his head.   
“Doctor Michigan said he would be back this afternoon, do you have any questions?” His mum asks.  
Dan motions at me and I take a step closer, almost basically climbing on the bed, he opens his right hand and starts poking his palm in different places with his left index finger. His parents start asking what he’s trying to signal for but I’m already handing him his iPhone. He opens his Notes app and starts typing, once he’s done he hands the phone to his mum.   
“ _How long until I can take off the mask_ ,” she reads, “doctor said after 24 hours, once they transfer you back into your room.”  
Dan frowns at that and buries his fingers in his locks. I place my hand on his shoulder and say, “technically only 22 hours, you’ve already been in here two whole hours, also, taking into account you’ll be asleep for at least eight hours, that makes it only 14 hours.”  
Dan motions for his mum to give him his phone back and starts typing again, he gives it to me this time but I don’t read it out loud just to piss her off. He wants to know _‘what about food’_. “Sorry mate, IV machine only, he said it’d give you all the nutrients necessary,” I tell him squeezing his shoulder and then letting go. He balls his fists and yelps, we all turn to look at his hands and realise the needle has really damaged his skin. Dan drops back on his pillow and stares at the ceiling.   


 

Nurses check in on him constantly and when he starts really complaining about the pain they drug him more making him fall into unconsciousness again. He wakes up a lot but only for brief moments, I don’t think he’s aware of when he’s awake and when he’s asleep. Every time Dan wakes up he blinks a lot, mumbles something under the mask and then closes his eyes again. I haven’t been able to make out anything he's saying and after some hours of the same thing I give up.  
When Doctor Michigan comes back he explains to Dan how the surgery went, exactly what they did, what all the machines are for and how long he’ll have to stay in each place.   
“As we discussed before the procedure, recovery is going to take a while so you need to take it easy, stay in bed as much as possible, obviously don’t do any hasty movements. You’ll have to stay in absolute bed rest for at least a week after you leave the hospital and from then on move only as absolutely necessary. We did just cut your chest open.   
“We’ll start the breathing therapy tomorrow in order to make your lung stronger, this will help you be able to breathe normally quicker, however, you will experience some shortness of breath. It’s completely normal.”  
Dan moves the mask to the side and whispers, “it hurts.”  
“I know, Daniel, but it will start getting better. If the pain becomes unbearable please do let the nurses know so they can increase your dosage. I understand you’ve been asleep most of your time here?” the doctor asks and Dan nods. “That’s ideal indeed, I would recommend you try to sleep it off. You will feel better tomorrow, especially when we take out the drainage tube.”  
“How early tomorrow?” my best friend asks moving his mask again. Knowing that he’s in pain makes me ache, obviously I knew that he was in pain but for him to say it out loud, it must mean he’s hurting really, really, badly even with all the pain killers.  
“Four in the afternoon, I’m afraid. You really must stay here the full 24 hours in order to keep you under close observation.”  
All of Dan’s walls come crumbling down and his eyes turn watery. He’s biting his lip so hard it will surely start bleeding any moment now.  
“Could the process be sped up in any way?” Dan’s father asks.  
“I’m afraid not, every single step is vital for Daniel.”  
His dad looks pained and so does his mum, I probably do too, and Doctor Michigan kind of does as well. Dan looks beyond pained, he’s _miserable_.  
“Very well, if anything happens be sure to contact me. I’ll ask the nurses to increase the medicament as well, Daniel.”  
“I’ll uh… I’ll be right back, alright?” Dan’s mum says with a trembling voice and her arms wrapped around her torso. Her husband smiles apologetically at me and follows her outside the door.  
“Hey,” I say softly as if I’m just seeing Dan for the first time ever since they took him away.  
“Hey Lester,” he replies placing the mask on top of his hair.  
“The nurses will be here soon with more pain killers, that should be able to help.”  
“I guess so but I feel so confused, I’m literally not even sure I’m actually having this conversation with you right now.”  
“What would dream Phil do that real Phil wouldn’t?”  
He stares at me blankly before replying, “I don’t know.”  
“You should put your mask back on,” I tell him feeling anxious about the lack of oxygen being forced into his _lung_.  
He huffs, “Yeah, I’m definitely awake.”  
“How?”  
“What?” He replies distracted. How did I lose him so quickly? He’s already so far away with his mind somewhere else.  
“How did you suddenly know you are awake?”  
“Oh… well… dream Phil would certainly not be this bossy,” he replies putting his mask back on.   



	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: the "ugliest shirt" i describe in this chapter is actually one of my favorite's of dan.

**Phil**

Dan’s time at the hospital flies by and when it’s finally time to go home I don’t feel ready to take care of him all by myself. They stopped the respirator after the 24 hours were up just like the doctor said and they took out the drainage tube two days after he went back up into his regular room. He’s looking much better now, all the color has returned to his face and the bruises have started fading away. Doctor Michigan asked him to stay the full seven days and when Dan seemed disappointed he told him that some people have to stay in the ICU connected to an invasive ventilator for 15 days and sometimes even more. Dan stopped moaning after that.   
The worst day was definitely the 24 hours he spent at the Intensive Care Unit, he slept through most of it but the rest of us were left staring as he came in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t allowed to eat anything and it’s not like he had a chance to either, they kept constantly drugging him, he never managed to stay awake for a whole conversation. His mother stayed a lot of nights once he was transferred out of the ICU despite me being here and despite the hospital’s policy of only one guest allowed. I didn’t mind. Dan did a bit, especially when he took notice in the fact that I would have to sleep on a chair (it was similar to a lazy boy, it wasn’t that bad).   
He’s taking a shower now, with her help, and I truly am glad she’s here to take care of _that_. Doctor Michigan is getting his dispatch papers ready and Dan’s dad is packing up all of his son’s stuff. In the meantime I’m just sitting on the couch staring at the chaos from an outsider point of view. I’ve had to do that a lot these past seven days, detach myself in order to be of use, in order to just get _through_ it. Dan’s pain turned almost unbearable when they started reducing the amount of medicine he was being administered, he claims it hurt the most when they first made him stand up. I was helping him that time but I was afraid to wrap my arm around him because they had just opened him up and spread him apart. So instead I just hovered around him, hands flying aimlessly, putting on my biggest attempt at a poker face while my friend screamed and tightened his fists and shut his eyes and contorted.   
“Phil, may I speak to you?” Dan’s dad says after zipping closed a backpack.  
“Sure, what is it?”  
“I’d like to talk about two different topics, which in reality merge into a single one, if you’d allow me.”  
I nod. “Okay.”  
“The first one is my wife, she’s been… well, this has been very hard on her as you might be able to understand, and realising that she’s not the one Dan turns to for support has also been though for her… which leads us to the second topic, I would like to thank you, Phil, for your aid and patience and care. Dan wasn’t a popular child, he traded friends throughout all of his years in school until he found you and I think you’ve been very good for him. You helped him get everything that he’s always wanted and you also allowed him to grow as an individual. It’s no wonder he asks for you whenever he needs help or feels poorly.   
“My wife knows this and she feels the same way as me, we are both unfathomably grateful, truly. I know her attitude has not been exemplary, but I just wanted you to know that we both really appreciate you and everything you do for our son. This situation has been awfully draining for the whole family so I can imagine how you must feel too, especially living with Dan, and we both admire your strength and attitude towards it. I also wanted to inform you that I do not agree with my wife’s idea to take Dan back with us to Workingham, I know he hates it there and that he would lose his mind if he weren’t with you. So Phil, just know that I got your back and that neither of us will never be able to repay you for all that you’ve done for _him_.”  
“I… I’m not sure what to say.”  
“There is absolutely no need for you to express a single thing, just know that we are aware of all that you’ve done and of how important you are for Dan’s well-being.”  
“Thank you–” and before I can say anything else Dan comes out of the bathroom with blushed cheeks and wet hair.  
“What are you two talking about?” He asks gripping the doorframe with both hands.  
“Nothing of your interest, kid.” His dad replies before giving me a complicit smile, which I return.   
I walk towards him and hold his elbows as support; he takes slow but steady steps towards the bed and sits on it carefully.   
“Did Michigan say how long it would take?” Dan asks looking up at me.  
“He said less than an hour so he should be up any minute now,” I reply.  
“Okay, is everything else ready?”  
“Yeah, your dad packed everything.”  
“Um, mum, dad, could you go check if everything’s set? I think Doctor Michigan said he needed me to sign something and that he would bring it up?”  
“Of course, honey,” his mum replies and both his parents step out of the room.  
“Okay Phil, here’s the deal,” Dan says seriously.  
“There’s a deal?”  
“I think I should move in back with my parents, for real this time.”  
I don’t say anything, I just put on the poker face I’ve practiced so much this past days. He stares at me and raises his eyebrows slightly then he sighs and speaks again.  
“I’m going to need a lot of help and I don’t want to burden you like that, my mum has stayed every night here just like you, she knows the routine.”  
I’m imagining tour buses and video cameras and puzzle rooms, detaching myself from a situation in which I’m half of the only characters involved.   
“Please say something,” Dan says scrunching his eyebrows.  
“Do you want me to convince you not to go? Or do you want me to just dismiss your idea? Perhaps you want me to just say goodbye and leave the room. What is it exactly that you want from me?”  
“Don’t be like that.”  
“Okay Dan, here’s the deal,” I repeat his exact words. “You can do whatever you want, you are an adult who can make his own decisions, if you consider this choice to be the best one then what can I do? Tie you up and force you to go home? Handcuff us together?” I wait for him to say something but he doesn’t so I go on. “I _want_ to be with you, I _want_ to help you and I’m perfectly able,” I say even though just minutes ago I was doubting myself. “You are not a burden, you never have been and you never will. You are my _best friend_ and I want nothing but the best for you. So make a decision but don’t justify it as doing something in my best interest because you leaving is not in anyone’s best interest. Especially not mine.”  
“Greetings again fellas, I’m back with everything you need to sign, Daniel,” Doctor Michigan says entering the room followed by Dan’s parents.  
I move out of the way and go to the further corner of the room.  
“Will that be all? Can I leave now?” Dan says handing the doctor his pen back.  
“Yes, you have to come back tomorrow, though, in order to test you so we can officially corroborate you are cancer free.”  
My stomach does a backflip after hearing that, we should be happy-nervous, not fighting over where he’s going to live.  
“Right, right.” Dan says biting his lip. I’m surprised he hasn’t completely bitten it off his face by this point.  
“That would be all then, a nurse will come with a wheelchair to help you out of the building,” the doctor says and after seeing Dan’s expression he adds, “it’s protocol.”  
“Thank you so much again, doc,” Dan’s dad says.  
“No problem,” he replies before shaking everyone’s hands and stepping out.  
“So… Dan?” His mum asks intently.  
Dan looks at me then at her then back at me as if he was choosing whether to eat Chinese or Indian food for dinner. “I’m going with Phil, mum.”  
Her face falls and then after almost immediately regaining composure it turns angry. “Are you sure?”  
“Very.”  
“Ready to go home, then?” His dad intervenes. It’s weirdly nice to know he’s on my side and not his wife’s.   
“We still have to wait for the wheelchair, did you not hear the doctor?” Dan’s mum says right as a nurse walks in with said wheelchair.   


 

When we finally get to the flat Dan’s parents don’t want to stay for lunch, or dinner, or anything that involves me. Dan’s dad and I help him slowly up the stairs until we finally reach our place. He gives us both half hugs and then leaves the same way we came up.  
“Your mum hates me,” I tell Dan as I help him get to the nearest couch.  
“I’d like to tell you that you are wrong but she does.”  
“Why did you change your mind?”  
“Well, you gave quite a speech, Phil.”   
“I wasn’t trying to force you to stay.”  
“You didn’t, I just want to be with you too.”  
“Your dad’s on my side you know? He told me.”  
“Is that what you were talking before I came out of the shower.”  
“Pretty much, yeah.”  
“I think my mum’s jealous of you.”  
“Your dad thinks so too.”  
“It’s ridiculous, really, we’ve never been close. I don’t know what her deal is lately.”   


 

**Dan**

“Do you need help getting dressed?” Phil asks from my bedroom door. He is wearing a dark blue shirt with a black heart pattern. Slightly too smart for a hospital visit if you ask me but then again who am I to judge.   
“Please,” I say and I’m already blushing. “I think I can manage to take off my sweats and put on my jeans but I’ll definitely need help with the top.” I slept in the same sweats and the same t-shirt I put on after showering at the hospital. Putting on and taking off clothes has proven to be a, severely painful, job for two.   
“Okay, what do you want to wear?”  
“Whatever you find first, not really feeling like dressing up just for the nurses at the hospital.”  
He smiles before rummaging my closet. After a couple minutes he starts laughing and turns around holding probably the most hideous shirt I’ve ever owned, it’s got a variety of patterns drawn all over it and it’s also made up of different colored fabrics, one sleeve is blue, the other orange, the torso is maroon and there’s a small, but notorious, green boob pocket.   
“ _Oh my God_ , not _that_ ,” I say slowly getting up from by bed.   
“You said whatever I found first!”  
“I thought I donated that to charity a long time ago.”  
“Well, apparently you kept it for a reason.”  
“Yeah, it probably crawled out of the donations box, it’s so ugly it’s most likely possessed.”   
“It’s not _that_ ugly.”  
“Dude, it’s like they ran out of fabric and had to put together different scraps in order to manage a whole t-shirt.”  
“This might be the only thing with color you own, though.”  
“Color doesn’t suit me.”  
“Everything suits you, Dan,” he says in a mocking voice.  
I make a gag noise in response. “Stop, just grab the first _black_ thing you see.”  
“Fine,” he says turning for my closet again. “Is this okay?” He asks holding up a grey t-shirt.  
“What do you have against black, Phil?”  
He rolls his eyes. “This is okay.”  
Getting me out of my shirt is a mess, I have no problem raising my left arm, the other, however, puts me in agony any time I move it in the slightest.   
“Okay, here’s what we are going to do,” Phil says pushing a strand of loose hair away from his face, “first we are going to get your left arm out, yeah? And after that your head and then we’ll just slide the t-shirt off of your right arm. You won’t even have to move it.”  
I nod and he slowly helps me to get my arm out, then before I can even manage a word he drags the shirt over my head and then the piece of fabric is falling on its own off of my arm.   
I look up at Phil in almost awe, “that was very not-clumsy of you.”  
“Why, thank you,” he replies bowing.  
“And now we have to do it all over again but reversed…”  
“About that, it _just_ occurred to me that perhaps it would be a lot easier if you just wore a button up.”  
“Oh, that makes a lot sense. You are so intelligent today, Phil.”  
“Today?”  
“Can I borrow one of your shirts?” I trashed most of mine when I thought I would never go to any event that required dressing up again. I guess I should purchase some more.   
“Sure, which one do you want?”  
“The least colorful one, please.”  
“Plaid?”  
“The galaxy one, maybe? It’s like black with colored dots that kind of look like stars.”  
He nods. “I know which one, I’ll be right back,” he says and then heads for his room.   
I work on taking off my sweats while he’s gone using mostly my feet to slide them off and then I work on putting my black jeans on. That part’s harder but at least they don’t fit me as tightly as they used to before. When I’m zipping them up Phil walks in.  
“Wow, you are fast,” he says handing me the shirt.  
“I’m not, you are just very slow.”  
“I think it’ll be easier if you slide both arms at the same time,” he says grabbing the piece of clothing back from my hands. He stands behind me and softly places both of my arms inside the sleeves and then carefully slides up the shirt over my shoulders. Then he walks around and faces me. “It goes all the way into your back. I don’t know how I didn’t notice before.”  
I look down and Phil starts tracing the scar across my chest and then over my back, very softly, almost like he’s hovering over it. If I weren’t looking at him I probably wouldn’t even notice.   
“Guess that was my kiss goodbye to be a side boob model,” I say quietly, trying to steady my voice.  
“I’m sure many companies would still hire you,” he says pulling his hand away.   
“They weren’t hiring me before,” I say laughing.  
“Do you need me to help you button up the shirt?”  
“No! No, I can take care of that myself. Thank you,” I reply taking a step back.  
“Okay, I’ll go get everything else ready, then.”  


* * *

The hospital is almost completely empty at this time on a Tuesday and the tests don’t take very long. We are done with all of them way faster than I expected.   
“I thought we could celebrate,” Phil says as we are exiting the building.  
“Celebrate what?”  
“That you are cancer free.”  
“We don’t know that I am.”  
“Let’s call it a pre-celebration.”  
“What if it turns out that I am still sick?”  
“Then you would’ve already had a good time.”  
“I don’t know…”  
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”  
“What did you have in mind?” I ask not because I’m caving in… I’m just… _curious_.   
“The Shard.”  
“Hm, the last time you tried to take me there was for my birthday two months ago.”  
“Yeah, and you wouldn’t let me. This is your chance to redeem yourself.”  
“Redeem myself?”  
“Please?”  
“Ugh…”  
“Please?” He says again tilting his head and softly squinting his eyes.  
“I hate you.”  
“As long as you love this, that’s fine,” he says grabbing my arm and dragging me into the cab that’s just arrived. “To The Shard, please,” Phil instructs.   
“Don’t we need a reservation?” I whisper.   
“Already made one.”  
“What? When?”  
“Yesterday, I had a hunch I would be able to convince you this time,” he replies smiling.   
“Am I that predictable?”  
“No, I just know you that well.”  
When we get to the restaurant floor Phil walks in as confident as he’s ever been.  
“Good afternoon, reservation for Lester, please,” Phil tells the restaurant host.  
“Very well, come with me gentleman,” the woman says smiling before guiding us through the restaurant, all the way to the back, to a table on the corner right next to the window. “Enjoy your stay,” she says before leaving.  
“ _You managed to get a table by the window?_ ” I ask incredulously. Supposedly you can’t actually ask for one. It says so on the website.   
“You are not the only person I can persuade,” Phil says.  


 

In the middle of our meal one of the bigger tables there erupts into song, they are all singing happy birthday apart from one girl with long black hair. She’s cringing so hard it makes me feel bad. She starts melting on her seat sliding further down with every word looking around to see how many people are staring and they all are, even the waiters are whispering. She’s covering her face, which has turned a deep shade of red, with one of her hands. It looks like she’s either about to cry and run out or about to start punching everyone around her and, honestly, I’ve been in that mental place a lot these past week.   
“That’s exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to come here back in June,” Phil says smiling.  
“Oh really? I doubt it would’ve had the same impact if it was just you singing.”  
“I was going to invite your parents too, I bet your dad would’ve loved to sing you Happy Birthday from the bottom of his heart.”   


 

**Phil**

By the time we order dessert the sun starts going down and it feels as if it was right next to us. Dan’s curls are sparkling golden under the sunlight and so are his eyes. He’s glowing not only from the warm shimmer outside but you can tell there’s a new sense of hope in him and I want him to have that. He deserves to be happy– to allow himself to be happy and believe that nothing can take that away from him anymore. He deserves to feel like he finally has back the control of his life. And it’s only a matter of time for that to be a reality, I just have to wait until they give him the good news tomorrow.  
I know it’ll be good news.  
My grandmother had psychic powers, and if I ever was going to be able to accurately predict something, it’s that Dan is now cancer free.   


 

**Dan**

I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing. I extend my arm to grab it from my bedside table.  
“Hello?” I say not completely awake yet.  
“Daniel, this is Doctor Michigan, I apologize for calling this early in the morning but I just got the test results.”  
I jolt up and run a hand through my hair. “Hello doctor. You know the results?”  
“I do, I’m so enthused you answered this early in the morning,” he says and then nothing else.  
“Of course…” I say prompting him. My ears are ringing and my stomach is going nova, my phone starts sliding down my hands as the cold sweat begins to spread. Michigan continues talking and I miss the first part but it’s the next sentence that grabs my attention.  
“What I’m trying to say is, it’s good news, Daniel.”  
“Do you mean…”  
“You are officially cancer free Daniel, congratulations.”  
“I am? Oh, thank you so much, Doctor Michigan! Thank you thank you! This is unbelievable, are you absolutely sure?”  
He laughs. “Positive. You won this battle, Daniel, you are going to be okay.”  
“Thank you so much.”  
“I’ll leave you now so you can go spread the good news,” he says and then hangs up. I grab my pillow, put it against my face and scream, I get out of bed and I’m about to start jumping when an agonizing pinch on the side of my body brings me back to reality… a happy, hopeful reality nonetheless.  
“Dan! Are you alright?” Phil says running into my room. I jump into his arms and squeeze him more tightly than my scar would care for.  
“Phil, it’s gone. It’s gone now. We are going to be okay. It worked!”  
He pushes me away softly but holds onto my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “It’s gone? As in, _the cancer is gone_?”  
I nod excitedly with happiness swallowing up my entire face.   
“Oh Dan!” He says and drags me back into his arms. “I told you there would be a reason to celebrate.” I can feel his jaw moving against my shoulder as he speaks.  
“I know, thank you,” I reply letting go. My face hurts form smiling so much but I genuinely can’t stop. If my life was a movie, the happiest, most cheerful song, would be playing on the background right now.   
I’m ecstatic. Ecstatic doesn’t even begin to cover how I am feeling right now. This is actually happening, I’m cancer free at last. After all I went through this is life _finally_ giving me a break.   
It’s all going to work out my way.   
I am going to be okay.  



	21. Chapter 21

**Dan**

My mum cried on the phone when I told her, if my dad cried too he did a pretty good job at hiding it. I haven’t stopped smiling since this morning, who could’ve ever thought that today, on August 22nd, my life would change completely for the third time ever? You can say whatever you want about my time on this Earth but it definitely hasn’t been uneventful.   
I’m thinking about all the possibilities that are available to me again (once I’ve healed from the operation). I think about all the ways I can regain my life back and it feels like my face has gone numb from stretching it so much. There’s a new light to the day, like the world changed course and I got to have my luck back.   
Phil’s happiness is an echo of mine, throughout the whole day we haven’t stopped laughing and smiling, I finished everything he cooked for breakfast and then asked for seconds. Every now and then I’ll lose my breath and just the thought that at some point it’ll stop feeling like that is a whole new reason to celebrate.   
I know memories fade and blur out with time but I just have a feeling I’ll never forget this day. I know I’ll be able to write down every single detail, every single feeling, and every single word spoken, tomorrow, next month, next year, in five years. Even when I’m 80 and old and I can’t see or hear anymore, I’ll be able to narrate how this day happened exactly.   
Doctor Michigan’s receptionist called later in the afternoon to remind me that at least for the first year I would have to get tested every two to three months which put Phil a little on edge but I’m feeling confident, nothing can outcast my happiness right now. It’s as if a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders and suddenly I am able to stand tall and see everything clearly again.   
At night I lay down on my bed and plan out the rest of my life, not entirely, I’ve never been the type of person that knows what their next step is going to be, but I picture myself moving into a forever home and having a family and aging. And with that thought I go to sleep.   


 

**Phil**

I _actually_ wake up with a smile on my face, the kind of smile you only get to see on rom-coms, but apparently my life has gotten to a point where my real first reflex after waking up is smiling. Good thoughts and happy songs immediately cloud my mind and there’s no space left for anything else to crawl in there, because, after such a long time of hoping and praying and getting angry and yelling and hugging and crying, it finally happened. My only true friend is going to be okay.  
I feel like announcing it to the world, I tried yesterday, to step out onto the terrace and just yell it for all of London to hear but Dan stopped me on my tracks, told me I’d scare the pigeons… and the neighbors. He’s also bursting with happiness, I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time. His face might actually be permanently damaged from all the smiling he did yesterday. He’s got such a good, big smile, that one.   
When my face starts hurting from smiling so much I get out of bed and look out the window to see if the world noticed there has been a major change in my current life situation and although it probably didn’t it does feel somewhat different. Like the sun is shining brighter but not too harshly, like people are still rushing to their jobs, not because they’re late but because they can’t wait to get there, like the whole city is smiling at us.   
“Good morning, Philip,” Dan says as I enter the kitchen.  
“Good morning yourself, Daniel,” I reply. “Why are you out of bed, might I ask?”  
“It’s a lovely day,” he tells me smiling.  
“That’s never stopped you from staying in bed all day, even when it wasn’t doctor’s orders.”  
“I know, but right now I have reason to celebrate.”  
“The whole world does.”  
“It does?”  
“Dan,” I say already feeling like a blatant idiot, “you being happy is something that should be celebrated worldwide.”  
He wheezes and rolls his eyes, “they should definitely at least make it a national holiday.”  
“Everyone could celebrate by staying on the Internet all day.”  
“I feel like that’s something they already do and anyway I don’t do that anymore.”  
“You are always on the Internet, you’re just not active on social media.”  
“Touché, Lester.”  
“Don’t underestimate me, Howell.”  
“So what are we having for breakfast?” He asks opening one of the cabinets.  
“Cereal?” I ask extending my arm over his shoulder and grabbing a box.  
“Exciting.”  
“Would you find toast more exciting?” I ask grabbing a bowl and spoon and sitting down at the table.  
“No, not really, also you forgot the milk you buffoon.”   
“I just knew you’d bring it to me,” I say scrunching up my face and smiling.   
“So what are we going to do today?”  
“ _You_ are going to stay in bed just like Doctor Michigan said, for the next month.”  
“I feel fine, Phil.”  
“I know you do, but you just went under major surgery.”   
“You weren’t thinking that when you took me to The Shard.”  
“Sitting and eating is hardly a rough physical activity, we are literally doing it right now.”  
“ _Fine_.”  


 

The rest of the day I convince Dan to stay in bed and in the middle of the afternoon he tweets something. I’m impressed when I get the notification on my phone. He doesn’t tweet anything about him missing a lung or about being cancer free or about how brave he was at the hospital or about how much pain he’s been in or about his mum fighting me for “custody” or about how his dad took my side. He tweets a funny self-deprecating tweet. And suddenly it’s as if nothing had changed, as if it was another normal day in the life of Dan and Phil. Just him and me, creating our own world for the rest of the population to enjoy.   



	22. Chapter 22

**Dan**

As the climate begins to change and the leaves start to fall my breathing becomes better and so does my mental state. Phil and I are both back on social media (not YouTube though, not yet) and it feels so good. I’d forgotten what a huge part of my life it used to be. I haven’t answered any questions regarding what I went through because I’m not really sure I’m ready for everyone to know just yet. So I keep it light and simple, I joke and talk about the most recent events in pop culture and I tweet memes and reblog some others and it’s been really good. I’ll post Instagram stories but only of the music I’m listening to, I don’t think it’s time for the world to see me again. To see the mess I’ve become.   
My appetite returns sometimes, others I feel like a different species that’s repulsed by human food. My therapist says it’s normal and that the new meds should be able to help. It’s always hard changing pills, they alter your whole brain chemistry, but I do feel like I’m making progress again, like there are more good days than bad days. And when the days _are_ bad, Phil’s always there to keep me sane.   
I think he’s also really happy about being back on social media, he tweets a lot about dogs and food and weird things he spots, just like he always used to. He once told me that it felt like nothing had changed, like we’d both just woken up from a fever dream and returned to our normal lives, I don’t know that I agree with that but what I can say is that picking back up some of the things I’d stopped enjoying feels a lot like going back home.   
I could never say that it was just a fever dream because there are a lot of reminders of what I went through, and it’s not like I would want to forget this experience either. I have scars, both mental and physical, to prove that it was _me_ that fought and persisted and survived. I have a long list of people that stopped talking to me to show for it as well. Some of them have tried to contact me again recently, but if I was unconsciously bad at replying before, now I’m a step short of blocking them all. I still talk to PJ and Sophie, they texted me now and then to check on me, so did Bryony, but everyone else, it’s like once I became too hard to deal with they all gave up on me. Which I don’t resent them for, not entirely, but I also wouldn’t want them back in my life knowing that they’re not in it for good.   
The last two weeks of August were good and September has been great too. My life is regaining its colors, they’re not bright and loud and bold, but they’re there and they’re beautiful and they carry a comfort within themselves. I’ve been trying to recover my lifestyle little by little, but I’ve also come to the realization that I don’t want to go back exactly to the way it used to be. I thought I’d always been good at being grateful, I thought I always had a good sense of appreciation for all the things that I earned and the things that were handed to me, but compared to how I feel now every single emotion I used to have was a shadow, just training for the real deal. Training for the feelings that fill up my heart with gratitude and my eyes with tears and my face with a smile, because sometimes, when the universe is smiling a little bigger on me, I can take a deep breath and feel full and I can go up the stairs to my room and feel okay.  
I’ve thought about fighting Disneyland for the “Happiest Place in the World” title, because I can be certain, right now, in this very moment of our lives, no one, not a single soul in this world, is happier than Phil and I.   


* * *

“You okay?” Phil asks before stuffing his mouth with popcorn.  
“Yeah, it’s nothing, I just have a headache, probably from my new pills.”  
“I thought the symptoms were supposed to only last a week,” he says questioningly.   
“I’m fine, really. I just need to lay down.”  
“I’ll turn off the T.V.”  
“Don’t,” I say as I melt onto the couch. “There’s no need.”  
“I wanted to catch up on some YouTube videos, anyway,” he says putting on his earphones.   
Having Phil in my life has always been like having my own source of light, like if we were both to be alive when the sun finally went out, Phil would be enough to keep this world from rotating aimlessly into space and destroying itself. He is always warm, it doesn’t matter where we are, he’ll always be your go-to source of heat. He’s also always one step ahead; like by the time you’ve thought something negative he’s already come up with 74 reasons why you should take the positive outlook instead. At least he used to be that way, before I got _really_ sick and it all pointed out to me not coming out of this alive, but now that I’m in the clear again, I got that cheerful Phil back and a thousand times more potent. My own personal sun, always there to shine its light on me, to keep me warm, to keep me whole.   
I close my eyes and try to wish my headache away, I’ve been getting them a lot lately and it’s majorly annoying. I’ve never had migraines but I feel like I’m starting to develop them.   


 

I don’t remember falling asleep but when I open my eyes Phil’s face is hovering over mine.  
“Hi,” he says. He’s on his knees on the floor.   
“Uh, hi, how long was I out?” I say trying to move as little as possible.   
“Like 40 minutes, maybe an hour.”  
“Is it time for dinner yet?”  
“Why do you think I’m waking you up?” He replies standing up.  
“What are we having?” I say sitting up.  
“I ordered Domino’s,” Phil says right as the doorbell rings. “And I’m pretty sure that’s _it_.”  
“Are you serious?” I’ve been craving it ever since he had it back when I was about to get surgery, which feels like ages ago.  
“I’ll be right back,” he says and disappears down the stairs.   
When he comes back he’s balancing a huge pizza box on his hands. He closes the door with his foot and places the pizza on our coffee table. “I present to you, our companion for the night,” he says motioning towards to table.  
“Phil, it looks _huge_.”  
“Don’t take _that_ out of context,” he says smiling and sitting on the floor by the food.  
“For fuck’s sake,” I reply slowly sitting down next to him trying not to stretch the scar across my right side.   
“What do you fancy watching tonight?”  
“Something I haven’t watched before, surprise me.”  
“You know which one we never got to watch? The Greatest Showman.”  
“I do love me some Zac Efron.”   
Phil and I aren’t the kind of people that talk during a movie or look at our phones or get distracted at all, really. We are actually the kind of people that judge anyone that doesn’t pay their full attention to what is happening on the screen but ever since I got better it’s like we can’t stop talking to each other. Even though we are pretty much literally never apart (except for when we go to sleep) we never run out of topics of conversation, the words just keep flowing.   
We sing (poorly and erroneously) along with Zac Efron and Hugh Jackman and talk about related and unrelated topics. By the time the credits start to roll we are still chatting– we don’t even notice that the credits are over and that the screen has gone black and that it’s three in the morning and that my head is resting against his shoulder.   


* * *

“Hey, I’m making pancakes, do you want me to bring you some?” Phil says marching into my room with a spatula in his hand.  
“Is that what that smell is?”  
“Nice, isn’t it?” He asks proudly.  
“It smells _burnt_ , Phil,” I reply and the cocky smile in his face disappears. I can’t help but laugh at that.  
“Do you want some or not?”  
“No thank you, I’m not feeling great today.”  
“What’s wrong?” He asks taking a step closer to my bed.   
“I’m not sure, I think I had too much pizza last night because my stomach is kind of upset.”  
“Should we go to the hospital?” He asks hurriedly.   
“Nah,” I reply calmly, “it’s nothing. I’m sure it’ll go away soon, I’ll drink some chamomile tea.”   
“Yeah, alright, do you want me to bring you some?”  
I nod and then add, “I’m going to miss this a lot.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You doing everything for me, including getting the mail at eight in the morning.”  
“ _Oh my God_ , I’d completely forgotten. That definitely wasn’t a package for me, what did you order?”  
“Just some clothes from Topman, I’ll show you later.”  
“They better be worth ruining my sleep schedule.”  
“Phil, please, your sleep schedule has been ruined since you moved in with me.”  
He rolls his multicolored eyes at me. “I’ll go get your tea.”  


 

**Phil**

“ _What_ are you _wearing_?” I ask as Dan dances into my room with a black and red striped tank top.   
“It’s one of the things I got from Topman,” he says spinning around so I can get the whole look.  
“ _Why_?”  
“What do you mean? It’s cool!”  
“Is it?” I ask intentionally eyeing the piece of clothing. The fabric’s kind of shiny and the cut just looks weird.   
“You don’t like it?” He asks staring down at it.  
“It looks like something you’d wrestle in.”  
“What does that _even_ mean, Phil?!”  
“I’m just not sure about it.”  
“Are you kidding me? I love it, shut up.”  
“How much did you spend on that?”  
“Jesus, it was on sale, like fifteen pounds.”  
“Well, it does suit you,” I say giving in.   
“ _Thank you_ , I know.”  
“So what else did you get?”  


 

By the time Dan’s done trying on everything he ordered the sun has gone down. He’s always really cautious about his scar but he put on and took off shirts without showing any discomfort and he only ran out of breath once but it was almost at the very end and to be honest, I’d probably be exhausted by that point too. He bought _a lot_ of stuff.   
It’s already been longer than a month since the surgery and he has recuperated notably fast, I am very proud of him. Next week he’s officially allowed to end his bed rest and I know he’s excited about it. I’ve been trying to come up with something cool to do but so far I haven’t thought of anything good enough to celebrate. Maybe I should stop trying to do a grand gesture and just plan something that will break the routine and that he’ll enjoy, even if it’s something small. I just have to figure out _what_.   


 

**Dan**

“Phil,” I say, “it’s almost the end of September, why do you want to go outside?”  
“To celebrate that you are now officially allowed to do mild physical activity.”  
“And that is clearly extremely exciting…”  
“I thought it would be,” he says looking down, his blonde eyelashes casting shadows across his cheekbones.   
“What mild physical activity did you have in mind?”  
“A picnic,” he replies still looking down.  
“A picnic?” I ask softly.  
“At the park.”  
“Which park?”  
“You’ll see… I mean, if you want to.”  
“Won’t it be too cold, though?”  
“Yeah, probably, you’re right. Forget it.” He’s still not looking up but his fair face has turned pink.   
“No, I was just saying so that we take some blankets with us and put on our coats.”  
“It’s all right, Dan. It was dumb idea.”  
“It wasn’t,” I say and I have the urge to put my hand under his chin and lift up his face but I intertwine my own fingers instead. “Come on.”  
“No, seriously, it’s fine. You don’t have to do this.”  
“But I _want_ to. It’ll be fun, what type of food were you thinking of?”   
“I uh… I had already packed it he says looking at me from under his eyelashes.”  
I can’t help but smile. “I’ll go get my coat then.”   


 

“Okay you were absolutely right, it’s way too cold,” Phil says burying his hands in the pockets of his jacket.  
“It’s not _that_ bad,” I reply even though I can no longer feel my nose.  
“Maybe we should go back home.”  
“But look,” I say pointing at an empty spot under a huge tree, “it’s the perfect patch of grass.”  
“I’m very happy we brought thick blankets with us.”  
“Don’t say thick, please.”  
He laughs, “sorry.”  
We lay a couple of blankets on the grass and wrap the rest around ourselves. We eat everything Phil brought slowly and even though he overdid it with the desserts the coffee we drink to wash down the sugar helps us stay warm. It’s so cold there are barely any people on the park. It seems like wherever we go, it’s just Phil and me in the end. Mostly residential neighborhoods surround the park so the night remains peaceful around us. The tree we are resting on is wide enough to fit both of our backs and the grass is surprisingly dry. All in all, the night is lovely and the cold isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I should’ve known to trust Phil by now.   
“Thank you for trusting me and coming with me,” he says as if he was reading my mind. It often feels like he is.  
“You say that like I did it as a favour when in reality I am very much enjoying myself.”  
_My smile_ stretches his cheeks then, the one he saves only for me.  
“It’s not too cold?”  
“Not really, it was a good idea to bring more than two blankets.”  
“It was _your_ idea, after all.”  
“I know, I’m full of good ideas.”  
“Did you like the food?”  
“It was like heaven in my mouth, thank you.”  
“No worries,” he says briefly touching my shoulder with his hand.  
“You can see _some_ stars from here, I’m really impressed,” I say looking up at the sky through the tree’s branches. Most of its leaves are resting under and around us. It’s the perfect autumn setting.   
“I know, sometimes it’s easy to forget that it is possible to appreciate nature even when in London.”   
“Did you ever think we’d be here? Both of us healthy? Both of us happy?” I ask still looking up at the darkness above us.  
“Yeah,” he says. “All the time, it was pretty much the only thing I ever pictured.”  
“Thank you.”  
“You’d already said that.”  
“For not giving up on me, I mean. I know it must have been tempting,” I say turning my head to look at him. His face is closer than I expected it to be.   
“Not at all,” he replies and even though it’s dark his eyes are so near I can pinpoint every detail in them.  
I rest my head back against the tree and press my blanket-covered arm against his. “You are always so warm, Phil.”   


* * *

I’m half conscious when I begin to hear Phil calling my name, at first it’s part of a dream, I’m walking towards a door and Phil’s calling for me but I’m too tired and in the dream all that I know is that once I get through that door I’ll get the rest I so badly need but then I open my eyes and real Phil is poking my face and repeating my name with every poke.   
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” I say slapping his hand away, “what is it?”  
“Well…” Phil says and my eyes focus then.  
“ _Oh my God_ ," I say sitting up, "did we fall asleep in the _park_?”  
“It would seem that that’s exactly what happened.”  
“What the _fuck_.”  
“I know, mostly I’m impressed we weren’t robbed.”  
Instant fear fills my heart and I start to erratically clap my pockets trying to find my phone, when I feel it and take it out, my heartbeat begins to settle back to normal.   
“We should probably go before they arrest us for public indecency,” I say looking around.  
“I mean, we are wearing like four layers of clothing plus the blankets but yes, we should.”  
“What time is it anyway? My phone’s dead.”  
“It’s six in the morning.”  
“Okay, we can still make out an escape before most of the city is awake.”  
“Do you feel like walking?” Phil says beginning to fold the blankets we used.  
I take in a mouthful of air with my cancer-free lung and smile. “I do.”  
“ _Wait_ ,” Phil says, “what day is it today? Aren’t you supposed to take your tests like today or tomorrow?”  
“It’s September 21st, Phil and no, I have to take my tests next month.”  
“Oh right, okay.”  
“I think you need a little more sleep.”  


 

As soon as we got home we both went to our rooms and crashed, I slept probably way more than is recommended and woke up around noon. Phil apologized for eating breakfast without me and explained that he was way too hungry to wait and that he didn’t know at what time I would wake up. I told him I didn’t mind but that I wanted to have an early lunch.   
Sometimes it feels like I’m on the verge of waking up, like it’s all too good to be true, too _common_ , but then I remember that that’s the way life is supposed to be. Quiet, boring, uneventful. In truthfulness, mine’s not entirely like that, it is its own version of normal. With Phil in my life it can never be completely mundane, it’ll always be slightly off but in the best way possible.   



	23. Chapter 23

**Phil**

“Dan, I am so sorry,” I say guiltily.   
“It’s not your fault _we_ somehow managed to fall asleep on a park in _London_ ,” Dan says in a broken, hoarse voice.  
“Still… It was my idea to go to said park.”  
“Maybe it’s not even from staying at the park, I was fine yesterday,” he murmurs. I have to pay close attention in order to catch all the words. I still can’t believe his throat got so sore so fast.   
“Maybe you just need to rest your voice and drink some lemon tea with honey,” I say as I feel the gilt bubbling up at the back of my own throat.   
“Yeah, I’ll do that. Now stop making me talk.”  
“Sorry!”   


 

Dan spends pretty much the entire day typing on his computer; I have no idea what he is writing or whom he is writing to but he’s been very focused ever since he woke up. It’s nice to see him doing things he likes– it’s nice to have our life back. It’s as if we’ve finally left all the sorrow behind.   
I spend pretty much the entire day doing laundry, now that Dan has started to get dressed everyday instead of wearing the same shirt and pair of sweatpants there is a lot to get done. In the middle of the second load I hear his phone ring so I rush towards the room where the noise is coming from in case he can’t speak to the person calling.  
“Yes, this is Dan,” he says in a low almost inaudible voice. “Ah, okay, give me a second, I lost my voice so,…” he continues telling the person on the other side of the line. “Yes… Yeah… Exactly, wait a second,” he says and then hands me his phone.  
“Who is it?” I ask covering the speaker.   
“Doctor Michigan’s receptionist.”  
“Oh!” I say to Dan and then, “hello, this is Phil,” to the phone.  
“Hello Phil, this is just a courtesy reminder for Daniel to let him know that he has to take his tests in exactly one month from today.”  
“Of course, thank you so much,” I reply making a mental note to set a Reminder on my phone.  
“Remember that he has to email them to Doctor Michigan so that he can phone him with the results.”  
“Yes, I’ll remember. Again, thank you.”  
“No worries, have a nice day,” she says and then she hangs up.   
“She was just calling to let you know that your tests are due in exactly one month,” I tell Dan handing him his phone back.   
“Ah, okay. I’m pretty sure I already have it scheduled in my calendar,” he says turning back his attention to his computer.  
“So what are you writing?” I ask acting uninterested.   
“I am writing a book.”  
“A book?” I ask tilting my head.  
“Indeed.”  
“And what is it about?” I say as I try to catch a glimpse over his shoulder.  
“I’m not sure yet, I’ll let you know when I’m done with it.”   
“Why do you have to be such a tease?”  


 

**Dan**

Even though I’m not dying anymore I still want to finish writing this book. I feel like everything else can wait but not _this_ and besides, I’m not about to suddenly stop being a procrastinator and I know I have a lot of time to accomplish all of the things I want to do. I threw my _“List of Things to do Before I Die”_ under my bed right after Doctor Michigan called me to give me the good news and I haven’t looked at it since.   
The book’s the one thing I still want to get done _right now_ because I want it to be accurate. The way I’m feeling right now… I don’t think anything can compare and I don’t think I’ll ever feel this way again. I need to write it all down, put it on record in case I ever forget, in case I ever start acting ungrateful.  
I’ve always wanted my life story to be written down but now more than I ever I feel like there’s a purpose to it. It’s been an insane ride and I want to be able to look back on it even when there memories start fading away and it all seems like a distant dream.   
I’ve gotten as far as 10 pages but it gets especially hard when I have to remember how much it _hurt_. It didn’t occur to me that in order to write an experience that a reader would be able to relate to I would have to push myself to relive that very event again. I also don’t know how literal and explicit I want to be because I still haven’t made up my mind about what to do with this book-to-be. Is publishing it something that I actually want? So the whole world can know just how hard it was?  
The cursor keeps blinking, mocking me, and I all I can do is stare at it as my fingers softly rest on the keyboard. If this were a diary, I would probably be done with it by now. I know _what_ happened and _how_ it felt and _who_ was there and if it was only me who’d get to read it, it would only have to make sense to _me_ but because I have not decided yet, I have to at least try to give some sense to my words. I rub my hands against my face and sigh. People say the hard part is getting the idea for the book when in reality the hardest part is stringing words together that actually mean something. It would be slightly less difficult if I at least knew who my audience was going to be.   
The main thing that’s holding me back from wanting to publish this book-to-be is the reaction my friends and family will have to chunks of their lives being documented just because they had the misfortune of knowing me. I also wonder how much people _actually_ want to know? Do they want to know about that one time Phil held my fringe back and rubbed my back when the chemotherapy made me throw up for the first time? Or should I keep it light and hollow? Friend 1 gets cancer and Friend 2 stays supportive. Friend 1’s parents occasionally show up whenever it fits the story. Friend 1’s mum is jealous of Friend 2. What is it that I’m supposed to talk about?  
I don’t know.  
All I know is that I’m overthinking this whole thing especially considering that even if in the end I do decide I want to get published, publishers might not like what I’ve written.   


 

I’m lying in bed with all the lights shut off and my computer still on when I get a text from Phil.  
_Wuu2_  
I type back: _**still writing**_  
_I can’t sleep_  
_**maybe you should film a sleepless night with phil**_  
_lol_   
_**i’m serious !!** _   
_I really don’t want my comeback video to be a Sleepless Night and also I feel like I’ve done enough of those._   
_**have you thought about what your comeback video will be** _   
_No._   
_This conversation is not making me sleepier._   
_**fine** _   
_**what were you doing** _   
_I was on Instagram. Got a lot of weird ads again. I think it’s time to delete it._   
_**you can’t delete instagram just because it’s seen your 3 am browsing history** ___  
_I got a suggested video of a shirtless man doing pushups with puppies on his back_   
_**???** _   
_**though that sounds right up your corner if you ask me** _   
_I also think it’s listening to our conversation because I got advertised a writing course ??_   
_**wtf facebook** _   
_**maybe they’re reading our texts right now** _   
_We’re probably putting them to sleep._   
_**they don’t get paid enough to spy on us. poor guys.** _   
_lol_   
_**go to sleep, phil** _   
_How’s your throat?_   
_**better, i’ll probably have my voice back by tomorrow** _   
_That’s good, I’ve missed it._   
_**goodnight, phil.** _   
_Night, Dan._   


__

* * *

“So are you ready to tell me what you are writing?” Phil says raising his eyebrows.  
“I told you I’m writing a book,” I reply calmly, taking another spoonful of cereal.  
“Right, but what is it about?”  
“Me.”  
“Okay…”  
“And you… and everyone else that’s been a part of my life.”  
“Oh, so you are writing like an autobiography?”  
“You could say that, but it starts and ends with cancer. You could call it a ‘cancerography’.”  
“Yeah… I’m not sure that’s going to catch up. What do you mean it begins and ends with cancer?”  
“I mean I’m only writing about that period of my life, ever since it started and up until it ended.”  
“That sounds, um, interesting.”  
“Well, that’s certainly a way to describe it, Phil,” I say rolling my eyes. It’s too early to be thinking about all of this and my throat is still sore, I shouldn’t be talking this much.   
“What about _after_? What about now?”  
“Oh, well of course I’ll write about that. That’s the most important part.”  
He smiles at that, “then I can’t wait to read it.”  
“I never said you’d get to read it.”  
“Are you kidding me?” He says frowning.   
“I don’t know Phil! I haven’t made up my mind yet!”  
“About showing it to me?”  
“About showing it to the world, about whether or not I want to try to get it published.”  
“What’s holding you back?”  
“I just don’t know if I’m ready to disclose it all. Everything that I went through, you know? Or whether people will want to read it.”  
“I still don’t understand why I don’t get to read it, regardless of whether you decide to publish it or not.”  
“You might not like it.”  
“I’ll love it.”  
“You might not like what I have to say about you,” I reply staring at the table.  
“Do you secretly hate me?” He asks smiling. “Is that it? Were you just using me for my apartment back in Manchester?”  
“Fuck,” I say replicating his smile, “you got me.”  
“I promise I won’t get mad about whatever you write,” he says more seriously, leaning forward on his elbows.   
“You can’t be sure because you don’t know what it’s going to be,” I reply involuntarily pouting. I bite my lips to try and hide it.  
“You are being silly,” he says getting even closer. He’s always getting closer these days.  
“And you are being stubborn,” I reply getting up.   
I’m in a great mood today. I had no weird dreams, my lung is feeling great and I’m feeling inspired to write. The day is kind of cloudy which is the perfect setting for a cozy day in. It’s so lovely to think of days this way, cloudy or sunny, no big decisions to be made, no major surgeries to go under. Just a regular day where I can be an almost normal boy that writes down his feelings and hangs out with his best friend and watches T.V. and doesn’t feel like the floor is collapsing in on itself quicker and quicker with every step I take. My floor is steady and strong, supportive.   
Phil is also in a great mood; he spent most of breakfast humming, which he only does when he’s feeling cheerful. When I told him how good he looks in black it made him smile and that’s really all I could ever want, to make Phil smile. There was a moment during it all that I thought he might be depressed as well, but his brain seems to be working all right thus far, no extra chemicals needed. Imagine the bliss.  
I can’t wait for the three months of recovery to be over so we can start planning that trip to Brighton or maybe even Japan. I can’t wait to start living our lives even _more_. I’m feeling great lately, I can’t even remember the last time I lost my breath.  
I make my way into the living room and grab my computer from the couch before sitting down. Phil follows after me and sits next to me so I turn my back slightly in a way that I’m not facing him and he has no easy access to what I’m writing on my MacBook. He’s not ready to read it yet, and I’m not ready to let him know either. It could possibly change everything and I still haven’t decided if it’s worth it.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! To the people that care, I am so sorry this update took so long. I took an improvised trip to San Diego to see Interactive Introverts and I've been a mess ever since. But I'm back now and I hope you enjoy this chapter. <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Dan**

As we settled back into our routine my favorite thing became talking over breakfast with Phil while watching Netflix. There was no more unnecessary stress and pain, just pure domestic bliss. Days passed and the setting outside became completely brown splashed with orange highlights, my preferred season was in full bloom. I was completely committed to the spooky mood but as Phil and I were still trying to come up with something fun to do for Halloween, stores started selling Christmas decorations. My friend was truly offended by that– Phil’s a firm believer that “the C word” shouldn’t be said out loud until at least the second week of December.  
“Ready to go?” He asks now sliding our backpack over his shoulders.  
“I sure am,” I reply smiling. “Also, you look like a child, with the backpack on like that.”  
“I’m not the one that gets called sweetie and honey by waitresses but okay.”  
I roll my eyes. I still don’t get that whole trend. I change the subject knowing that I’ve lost this fight. “So what do you want to do after I take the tests?”  
“Well I was thinking of getting a new Halloween jumper, do you think the shopping center will be too crowded?”  
“Hm, we can go and if it is you can get it online.”  
“Deal.”  


 

“Daniel,” a recognizable voice says from behind, “what are you doing back here?”  
“Hello, Charlotte,” I reply. She used to be my regular nurse back when I started chemotherapy, which feels like a lifetime ago. Her face is all crumpled up, wrinkled forehead, furrowed brows, and tight lips. “I’m just here for a routine test.”  
“You scared me!” She says softly slapping my arm. “I heard the good news.” She’s all smiles and dimples now.  
I let out a quick chuckle, “I’m great!”  
“I’m glad,” her smile softens then, her eyes are a really pretty shade of brown and she must be around my age. Sometimes I wondered if she was flirting with me back when I was sick but we never got anywhere because well, I was dying and she had other patients to attend to and also the emotional baggage I carry just keeps getting bigger and bigger.  
“It is really nice to see you again. It had been quite a while.”  
“Too long,” she says and she makes me wonder again.  
“Hi Charlotte,” Phil says.  
“Phil, hi! I’m so glad to see you boys again but I should get going now, some patients are waiting on me.”  
“Of course and again, so nice to see you,” I say and she nods goodbye before turning around.  
“You know she’s into you, right?” Phil whispers as she disappears into a different room.  
“Stop it, she is not.” 

 

The tests take no longer than usual and before midday we are out of the hospital and on the hunt for Halloween jumpers. We should’ve guessed that clothing stores would be desolated at this time on a Monday. Phil –of course– looks great in everything so –of course– he gets them all (he only gets 3, and one’s actually for me but still). We take the tube back to our place and when we get there I stare at the stairs and smile to myself. It finally feels like they don’t pose a threat to me anymore, they’re just means to get from one place to the other.  
Phil places his hand on my lower back and smiles encouragingly. “You okay to do this?”  
“I’m perfectly all right,” I reply nodding and taking the first step. There’s a reflex in the back of my brain to suck in a mouthful of air but my body doesn’t actually need it. Not yet, anyway. I keep going up feeling more and more confident with every second, going faster and faster with every step and it doesn’t ever get harder. When I get to our door my throat burns slightly and I’m breathing a little heavier than usual but then again so is Phil.  
“I love it when you smile like that,” Phil says as he is smiling himself.  
I roll my eyes. “Shut up, let’s just go inside.”  


 

We are in the middle of a board game when Phil stops and very seriously asks, “when did they say Doctor Michigan would call?”  
“They didn’t,” I reply, “they just said that they’d email him the results tomorrow so I’m guessing he’ll call tomorrow.”  
“Right, okay,” he says biting his nails.  
“Are you nervous, Phil?”  
“What? No.” He takes his finger out of his mouth and closes his fist.  
“It’s going to be okay, I feel great, my lung feels great.”  
“I know that, I’ve noticed.”  
“Then you know there’s nothing to worry about.”  
“I’m not worried, I promise.”  
I roll my eyes at him for what feel like the 100th time that day. “It’s your turn.”  


 

**Phil**

I don’t want to stress Dan out but I also don’t understand why he is not _stressed out_. Of course, it’s only 1 P.M., Doctor Michigan still has pretty much all day to call but _why_ hasn’t he called yet. I don’t get it, the tests are pretty straightforward, it shouldn’t be such a task to see them and then call us to tell us the results.  
I know I’m being unreasonable, Dan on the other side is feeling unbelievably (unreasonably) calm and confident and so I’m trying to soak up as much of it as possible. I’m sure the tests results are just going to confirm what we already know– that’s he healthy and that everything looks good which is why I can’t wait to listen to those words coming from the doctor.  
I’m pacing and biting what’s left of my nails when Dan walks into my room, once he sees me he crosses his arms and scowls.  
_“What are you doing?”_ He asks.  
“Cardio?” I say in a questioning tone.  
“You are not doing cardio, Phil! You are worrying!”  
“Your mum’s worrying,” I reply in an attempt to lighten the mood.  
“Yeah, probably, but definitely not as much as you.”  
“I just meant… Look, I’m sorry, okay? You weren’t supposed to find out! That’s why I’m doing it privately in my room.”  
“There’s no point in worrying when we both know everything’s going to work out,” he says stepping forward and placing his hands on my shoulders.  
“Well it’s not the reasonable side of my brain that’s worried. There’s no logical explanation to my worriedness.”  
“Clearly.”  
“I’m a person that worries constantly. It’s like second nature to me.”  
“You must pardon my language but that sounds like a load of crap.”  
“Are you calling my personality a load of crap?” I ask pretending to be offended.  
“Your personality is not worrying over test results, it’s bubbly loud bright pop culture references and puns.”  
“I should change my twitter bio to that.”  
“Can we just watch a movie?” He asks dropping his arms. “Maybe it’ll take your mind off of it.”  
“Yeah, okay,” I reply studying his face trying to find any sign that he’s faking it but he looks resolutely confident.  


 

When the clock strikes eight I come to terms with the fact that Doctor Michigan is not going to call today and that Dan’s right. They never specified when he would call so there’s no solid justification for me to freak out over the lack of news. Plus, there’s nothing I can do now but wait until this guy decides it’s time to call. Once again I’m feeling annoyed and frustrated at Doctor Michigan even though I owe him my best friend’s life.  
Dan’s sitting next to me enjoying his dinner probably thinking about unrelated topics which makes me feel a little bit lonely in my stress but also really glad he’s in such a good place mentally. He’s so happy and inspired lately. After we finished the movie he started playing the piano and I jut sat on the floor and looked at him for hours. He looks so peaceful when he plays; it always makes me want to squeeze his face.  
I try to come up with something that’ll take my mind off of the results now that there’s no hope of getting them today and I remember the last text conversation I had with Dan. I have been thinking of what my “comeback Youtube video” should be and so far my options are a baking video and a story time about the weird girl I encountered on the train– so nothing that creative. I never thought coming back to Youtube would be this hard but it’s turning out to be a bigger challenge than I could’ve ever imagined. Before video ideas would come to me at all times, in the shower, during breakfast, while taking the tube but I guess that part of my brain hasn’t caught up yet. I’m also worried about what the comments will look like, when Dan and I first went back on twitter most of our replies were cancer related and sometimes they were even too crude to be true. To this day people still ask us about it and I wonder if it would be better to just make a whole video about it and answer Frequently Asked Questions but then I too think that once we open that door, we’ll never hear the end of it and also it’s Dan’s choice just how much he wants to share.   


 

**Dan**

Phil is freaking out. He’s been freaking out all day and the urge to slap it out of him has been really strong. I just don’t comprehend why he is so desperate to get the results, it’s not like they are going to be at all surprising. We already know that we have good news coming. Honestly, if it wasn’t for him constantly asking me if Michigan’s already called, I wouldn’t even be thinking about it. I tried to distract him with a movie and then by playing the piano but it was like placing a Band-Aid over a bullet shot.  
I’m eating my dinner and avoiding eye contact just so I don’t have to see the painted lines of worry all over his face. I think he’s already given up, surely he can’t expect _anyone_ to call at this hour. I stare at the fire behind him, and try to feel the warmth wrap protectively around my body. There’s nothing better than a cozy night in during autumn.  
“Dan?” Phil says and I reluctantly remove my eyes from the golden sparkles.  
“Yeah?”  
“I’m sorry for being so annoying today.”  
“That’s okay,” I reply.  
“I know it’s dumb, I guess worrying has just become a habit of mine.” His hair looks so good against the orange flames, has it looked this good all day?  
“Second nature, right?” I say repeating the words he gave me earlier.  
He exhales a short laugh. “Right, you get it.”  
“I understand, Phil, I just wish you were on the same set of mind as me.”  
“I am, I _know_ you are okay it’s just I just can’t help but worry when you are all I’ve got.”  
“I’m not all you’ve got,” I say and his face falls so I go on. “I mean you have friends and family as well.”  
“Trust me when I say you are all I’ve got because no one else could ever… they just could never.”  
“They could never what?”  
“Make me… the Phil that I want to be.”  
“And which Phil do you want to be?”  
“The Phil that’s brave and confident and creative,” he says with wide eyes as if he’s confessing his darkest secret.  
“You were creative way before I knew you,” I remind him half smiling. That was what got me hooked, I had never in my life encountered someone so creative and so blatantly and openly weird.  
“Not brave though, definitely not confident. I was a shy mess,” he says shaking his head softly.  
“Oh Phil, you could never be a mess. You are the kind of person that picks up after everyone else, that puts people together. You are everything but a mess.”  
“Only thanks to you,” he says and I feel like saying so much and doing so much.  
 


	25. Chapter 25

**Dan**

Phil is quite literally driving me insane so I decide to send him out to the store for much needed groceries. Now that I’m eating regularly again we are running out of food a lot faster which is why it is perfectly justifiable for me to ask him to get us some more.  
“I’ll be right back!” He calls from the front door.  
“Okay!” I yell back from my room.  
“Call if you need anything!”  
“I will! Be safe!” I shout and then I hear the door shut. I sigh with relief and then I feel guilty about it but honestly anyone in my position would be relieved as well. He needs to relax before his eyes pop out of their sockets. They were literally bloodshot this morning, I don’t know how much sleep he got but it definitely wasn’t enough. He worries unnecessarily much.  
I’ve been writing and ignoring him most of today. My book’s coming along nicely, it’s a lot funnier than I expected it to be, I guess even when it comes to terminal illnesses I can’t really take myself seriously. The more I write the more real it feels and the more convinced I am to try and get it published. By this point I’ve come to the realization that I _am_ writing for an audience and that that’s okay. I’m only telling what I am comfortable sharing. No gory or embarrassing details, mostly just feelings and regrets.  
I close my computer and open the window. The cold air feels nice on my face and against my hair. I study my surroundings and end up focusing on a tall building that’s made out mostly of glass. Sometimes I like to look at buildings that function as offices for big companies and wonder what my life would’ve been like if I had graduated university and was now an attorney at law. The thought usually recoils me and today is not the exception. I cannot even being to imagine how miserable my life would be if I had to sit at a desk all day answering to a boss that probably hates their life and lives only for the weekend. I can’t picture what that’s even like, spending all your life just waiting for Saturday to come around, it sounds so… sad. I like my current life very much, I get to be creative and I have to answer only to myself. It’s the best job I could’ve ever asked for (apart from theater, I always did want to do theater).  
I know I owe it all to Phil, I’m positive that without him I would’ve never had the confidence to actually film that first Youtube video. He says that I made him confident and brave but I don’t think he actually understands the magnitude of what he did for me. He changed my life in so many ways that I cannot even begin to describe. Had it not been for him I might’ve never had the courage to drop out of uni and if I had somehow managed to do it, maybe right now I’d be doing absolutely nothing with my life. There is so much that I’ve gotten to do because he decided to be a part of my life, so much of which has turned me into the person I am today.  
It’s ridiculous really to think of what we have lived and how much we’ve accomplished at such an age. I never in a million years could’ve seen my life headed this way but I am so glad that it did, and now that things are going back to normal and I’m starting to feel like a person again I can’t wait to experience even more of it.  
I’m still spying on bored workers when my phone rings. It’s Phil.  
“Miss me already?” I ask.  
“Very much, but that’s not the point. The road is closed and I can’t get to our usual Tesco so now I have to go to the other side of town. I’ll probably be gone a while.”  
“If you want a break from me you just have to tell me, Phil, there’s no need to come up with such crazy excuses,” I say teasingly.  
“Oh please. I’ll try to hurry but it’ll be a while.”  
“It’s fine, don’t rush. I don’t want you to forget anything.”  
“When have I ever forgotten anything from a _written list_?” He asks and he sounds offended.  
I huff. “More times than I care to name. Just pay attention okay?”  
“I won’t forget anything, trust me. I’ll see you soon.”  
“Bye.”  
“Bye.”  
I take a step back from the window and yawn. Phil’s incessant pacing woke me up way too early this morning. I look at my bed and consider taking a short nap. It could definitely not harm my already terrible sleep schedule. I lie down and close my eyes thinking about new chapters for my book, waiting for the darkness to swallow me whole.   


 

The sound of my phone viciously vibrating against my night table wakes me up. I sit up and rub my hands against my face before grabbing the phone. I try to focus my eyes on the screen and once I do I realize it’s Michigan calling. I smile thinking: _finally, Phil will shut the hell up._  
“Hello?” I say and then clear my throat. My voice still sounds hoarse from the power nap.  
“Is this Daniel?”  
“Indeed.”  
“Daniel, it’s Doctor Michigan. I got your test results yesterday.”  
I feel a bit annoyed knowing that, he could’ve saved Phil a lot of worry if he had just called yesterday. “Oh, okay.”  
“I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, I just wanted to consult with other oncologists before phoning you.”  
“Why would you need to–”  
“Daniel, I am _so_ terribly sorry,” he says interrupting me mid-sentence.  
“What… What are you saying?”  
“The cancer is back, and it’s everywhere, in your throat, in your stomach, it’s…”  
I stop listening to him as he continues listing every part in my body. This _can’t_ be it. There is no way the universe would play me like that. This is _not_ happening. I feel hot tears stream down my face and suddenly I can’t breathe. The voice on the phone keeps going but my brain is screaming for help, drowning out everything else. I feel cold drops of sweat sliding down my neck and onto my back, covering my palms, drowning my hopes and dreams. What used to be my stomach has now been replaced by a dark hole that is sucking all my plans and thoughts. Someone keeps talking in the distance but I’m too far away to really notice, to really care.  
No, no, no.  
_No_.  
The walls in my room are crumbling and the sky turns dark. It’s all falling on me, pressing on my chest and squeezing my brain. The pressure becomes too much for me to support and a loud sob escapes my throat. I throw my phone against the remains of my life and fall onto the floor. My knees slam against the hardwood and then everything else gives out. Every part of my body is fighting for attention and it’s all too much. I hug my legs and the tears begin to soak up everything else. The cold floor is stabbing my ribs and my shoulder and my hip and my face is drowning.  
_Please, please, please._  
I hold my hair and squeeze my teeth trying to hold back the harsh noises that are climbing out of my throat but it’s all too much too much too much.  
I try to hold myself together, I try to grab as many pieces of me as I can and I attempt to keep it all bundled up but I’m melting onto the floor, and some parts escape my grip. My heart goes bouncing off and crashes against the wall. My chest has been ripped apart and all that’s left is a huge hole in its place. I can’t keep myself together; it’s all just too much.  
_Oh God._  
_Oh God._  
_Oh God._  



	26. Chapter 26

**Dan**

I don’t know how long it’s been but the tears have all dried up on my face and my shoulder and knees are now bruised. I sit up and try to suck in as much air as possible. I question whether or not I should tell Phil and of course I should tell him, how could I not? He’s been dying to know. I mean, he probably was not expecting me to have cancer again, but he wants to know the results. The problem is that everything’s _so_ good. He’s finally treating me like a normal person again and I’m not sure I am ready to give up that. I’m not sure I can lose that too, not now.  
I won’t tell him. I _can’t_ tell him. I’ll just let him know that I’m fine, because I am. I have to believe that. For myself. For my sake.  
_The headaches._  
_The stomachaches._  
_The sore throat._  
_The chest pains._  
It was all right there, rubbing it in that I was sick again and instead of taking the hint I decided to simply ignore it. Because I am a top class moron, perhaps the biggest, most idiotic one, there ever was.  
I lie back on the floor, this time on my stomach, and look under my bed for the fucking cursed list. I have to use my iPhone torch but then I see it and reach for it. I hold it in between my hands and the tears begin again, staining the paper and making the ink run. I read each number over and over again through my blurry vision and number five especially turns my stomach. Everything else is something dumb that I thought up at 4 A.M. when I got scared of actually dying.  
I don’t have _time_ to do number five the way I would want to but if I want to do get it done at all I’m just going to have to risk it all. Literally. There are only two possible outcomes and if it doesn’t work out, well, I don’t have anything to lose anyway and if it does work… I can’t even let myself think that it might.  
I feel properly sick just thinking about going for it and that makes me angry. I just found out that once again I’ve been robbed of pretty much every opportunity and instead of worrying over that I am freaking out over something completely stupid. But at this point, I don’t care anymore. I simply can’t. I can’t give a shit when I’ve just been told my whole body is fucked up; it’s now or never.  
_Fuck it._  
I’m doing it and I’m not going to care whether it works or not because I really, _really_ , don’t want to die without at least giving it a chance.  
“Dan! I’m back!” I hear Phil shout and it makes me jump. I throw the now ruined list under the bed again and use my shirt to clean my face then take a deep breath. I get up and put on my best happy face. It’s show time.  
“Good!” I yell back and my voice breaks so I breathe in again.  
“Where are you?” His voice sounds so close, I know he’s about to walk into my room so I try my best to compose myself.  
“My room!”  
“Oh hi,” he says walking in.  
“Hi there, you took a while,” I reply trying to keep my voice as steady as possible.  
“Yeah, lines were insane. Are you okay?”  
“Of course, why do you ask?”  
“Your face… it looks kind of red and puffy.”  
“I’m fine,” I reply with a dismissive hand. I should’ve at least washed it with some cold water.  
“I brought lunch,” he says excitedly.  
“Thank you, I’m starving.”  
I try my hardest to keep appearances during lunch but I’m not sure that it’s working. Phil talks and I follow the conversation the best I can but I’m certain he’s already noticed that there’s something wrong so staying in tune with my new _fuck it_ attitude I try to distract him with the thing that makes me want to be sick all over the floor.  
“Phil, let’s go to Brighton,” I say and he seems so confused by my sudden announcement.  
He frowns for a second before coming up with his own explanation for my odd behavior. “Wait, did Doctor Michigan call already?”  
“Yes, I thought you might like to know,” I say fixating my eyes on our table.  
“Well, I’m glad he finally took the time out of his day. So everything’s good, right?” He sounds hesitant and I consider then telling him the truth but I can’t do that to him. Not again.  
“Obviously, I told you it would be,” I reply putting on my best fake smile.  
“Oh, I knew it! I just had this weird feeling but I guess it was a good omen.”  
“I guess it was,” I reply quietly.  
“Why aren’t you more excited?” He asks getting up. “These are amazing news!” He takes my wrists and gets me on my feet before engulfing me in the tightest hug ever. “I’m so happy for you, Dan,” he says against my shoulder and it brings tears back into my eyes. I squeeze my eyelids shut to try and push the tears back but they spill all over my face anyway. Phil notices. “Are you crying?” He pulls back softly but his arms are still loosely wrapped around me. I can’t look at his face, I know I’ll cave in and tell him the whole truth but I also know that I shouldn’t. He doesn’t have to break like I just did, he deserves to live in a world where I’m not dying. Again.  
“Yeah, happy tears.” My voice breaks and I bite my lip in an attempt to hold back the truth as it’s tearing its way up my throat trying to escape.  
“Happy tears are the only tears allowed. This is so brilliant Dan, we have to celebrate!”  
“Yeah, by going to Brighton,” I say risking looking at his face and he’s glowing.  
“Déjà vu, Dan,” he says smiling.  
“I’m serious! I’m healthy now, there’s no stopping us.” The word ‘healthy’ makes my brain throb.  
“I thought you didn’t want to go anymore. I thought you were over it.”  
“I was but I’m not anymore.”  
“Have I ever told you how confusing you are?” He’s still smiling, he’s smiling at me like I deserve it, like he’s proud of me.  
“No… I don’t think so. I am?” Trying to keep up appearances is so hard when he’s this close.  
“Very much so. It’s really hard to keep up.” He tilts his head and somehow he’s now even closer. My own head is spinning for so many reasons.  
“I just suddenly got motivated to go again,” I say trying to speak up but it comes out as a whisper.  
“What made you change your mind?”  
Just the fact that I'm dying. “I don’t know… I just feel like right now is the right time.”  
He stares at me for a while trying to catch my eyes and then grimaces. “Your three months of recovery are not up yet, you still have almost a month to go.”  
Maybe right now, maybe _this_ , really is enough.  
“But I feel great,” something else inside me breaks as I say those words, I don’t know what’s left, maybe my spleen or my appendix, whatever it is, it shatters just like everything else. I’ve been saying that phrase for the past couple months so often, I’ve been saying it pretty much everyday. How could I have been such a fool?  
“I’ll talk to Doctor Michigan, yeah?” Phil says softly.  
“No!” I reply taking a step back. Phil’s arms fall flaccid as his sides, mine are extended defensively in front of me.  
“What’s wrong?” He asks alarmed.  
“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it,” I say quickly. I don’t need Phil talking to Michigan now or ever again.  
“Oh okay, are you best buds with him now?”  
“Ha! Definitely no.” Michigan is a though person to like no matter how hard he tries. He’s just an unlikable guy. Especially when he gives you the news that you are, in fact, cursed.  
“Do you want to call him now?”  
I consider my options, I can’t talk to Michigan in front of Phil but I also cannot act suspicious. I remember then that my phone is still on the floor of my room. “Yup, I just have to go get my phone. I left it in my bedroom.”  
“You can have mine,” he says but I’m already darting out.  
_Okay, this is fine, he can’t say no, there’s already no hope, how much can a trip to_ Brighton _hurt._  
As I enter my room I realize that it is now marked territory. It is now the place where I found out that I was dying again, the place where everything broke. I pick up my phone and very accordingly the top right corner is cracked. I sigh and dial Michigan’s number. The coward doesn’t pick up the first time so I call him again.  
“Daniel is everything all right?”  
Clearly no. “I have a question.”  
“Okay?”  
“Can I go to Brighton now?”  
“Pardon me?”  
“Before the surgery I asked you if I could go to Brighton and you said no. That it could complicate everything.” I’m speaking so fast I’m not sure he can understand me. I walk to my door and shut it before whispering, “I’m _dying_ now, so can I go?”  
“Daniel, I’m not sure that is the best choice for your current condition. We should start treatment as soon as possible.”  
“And what are my chances? Do I even have any?”  
“I’ve seen so many miracles happen...”  
I can’t help but laugh at that. A short, dry laugh. “So I don’t. If it’s set in stone that I’m going to die, can I go?”  
“Daniel...”  
“Doctor.”  
“I mean, I can’t force you to stay.”  
“Is that a yes?”  
“I would recommend against it.”  
I am so angry and sad and frustrated. A new set of tears start pouring out. “Please,” I say and the single word breaks. I slide down my door and onto the floor. I just need this one thing, could the universe rob me from it as well? Could Michigan?”  
“Go, Daniel. Be safe. We’ll start treatment as soon as you come back.”  
I nod my head rapidly and repeatedly trying to shake away the tears. “Thank you,” I whisper.  
“I am _so_ sorry.”  
“Yeah, well, it’s not your fault,” I say and then I hang up. I clear the never-ending tears with the back of my arm but they keep dropping. How could it all go to shit so quickly? Just hours ago I was feeling so confident and healthy and now I’m back to square one. It’s _bullshit_ , why would I get everything back just to lose it all pretty much instantly? Have I been such an awful person? I try to relive my whole life to find that one event that lead to all of this, the one trigger that made the universe decide I deserved to die.  
A stabbing pain in my head silences all of my thoughts and produces even more tears. I know I have to get up and talk to Phil before he gets suspicious but there’s just not enough left of me to do that. I don’t think I can do it anymore. You can put yourself back together only so many times before there’s just no way to repair the damage that’s been done and I believe this time was one too many.  
I sit with my back against the door and pray so that Phil doesn’t come in and find me like this because I don’t know what lie I would say. I can’t believe I’m lying to him about this, about something so big. I never, ever, lie to him.  
I close my eyes, hug my chest and try to picture myself whole instead of broken, flourishing instead of rotten. I consider telling him once more, just because I cannot deal with this all by myself. The weight is too much, it’s pulling me down and it’s too heavy to allow me to come up for air. I’m drowning again and this time I don’t even have a light to guide me back home.  
“Dan?” Of course my light is still there, it’s just, well, I’ve decided to go on without it.  
I get up and brush off the dust before opening the door. “He said yes.”  
“What? He did?” He’s so excited but mostly surprised. If only he knew.  
“Yeah!” I reply and I wrap my arms around his neck. He might not know why I need the comfort or that he _is_ comforting me but that doesn’t stop me from reaching out to him.  
“Everything okay?” He asks with his arms wrapped around my waist.  
“As long as you are here,” I reply pressing my face against his shoulder.  
“I always will be.”  
“I know.” It’s me that’s not going to be here.  



	27. Chapter 27

**Phil**

Somehow Doctor Michigan allowed us to go to Brighton even though Dan’s recovery period is not up yet. Everything has been so rushed– only yesterday we were talking about it and now we are both supposed to be packing.  
I am really confused by Dan’s sudden change of mind, last time the topic of Brighton even came up he got really upset and left it very clear that it was not a thing that he wanted to do anymore.  
Nothing makes any sense, not Dan’s unexplainable impulsive want and definitely not Doctor Michigan telling us that we can go. He’s the kind of doctor that likes to follow the rules exactly and never makes any exceptions. It’s hurting my brain trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for all this madness.  
I stare at my empty suitcase and think about everything that could possibly go wrong and then I shake my head and start choosing which clothes I want to take. I spread everything I need to pack, on my bed, and think about us having a good time. I picture us happy and safe. I think about how Dan is finally feeling okay and will be able to comfortably breathe in the particular air that always surrounds the ocean. I imagine Dan smiling and laughing. And then I get emotional.  
“Hey, are you done yet?” He’s suddenly standing– leaning on my doorframe, looking effortlessly relaxed.  
“Obviously, can’t you see my arranged suitcase?” I say pointing at the pile of clothes on my bed. “I finished like an hour ago. What’s taking _you_ so long?”  
“Well, it takes time to choose outfits that actually look good, clearly a problem you’ve never had.”  
“Hey! You love my shirts, admit it.”  
“Sure I do, Phil. You just keep telling yourself that.”  
“Shut up, at least I’m aware there are other colors besides black.”  
“I wear white and grey as well.”  
“Oh, a monochromatic pallet. Very risky.”  
“They represent who I am and you have to respect that.” He laughs and throws me a shirt I dropped on the floor but was too lazy to pick up. The fact that he’s kneeling down and standing up like it’s nothing makes my mouth stretch into a smile. I try to catch the piece of clothing but end up tumbling on the bed instead. “God Phil, how clumsy can a person be?” Dan says with his arms crossed.  
“Stop bullying me,” I reply throwing a pillow at his face that he somehow manages to catch. He throws the pillow back and then walks over and lies on the bed next to me, our legs dangling off the side.  
“Are you excited about this trip?” He asks looking up at his ceiling.  
“Definitely. A little surprised you suggested it though.” I turn my head and face his profile. He suddenly goes very still.  
“Okay, I felt bad, about when you tried to invite me to hang out with your family,” he’s still looking up and the words are rushing out of his mouth, “and I was an ass so I thought I’d make it up to you by going on a little getaway.”  
I’m surprised he even mentions that incident. Why now? What made him suddenly remember and want to make up for it? It still makes no sense to me. I thought we had a non-spoken agreement to forget that that had ever happened. “Not that it matters anymore,” I say, “but you really were an ass.”  
He turns his head to face me and then laughs again. He laughs so hard the bed shakes underneath us and our noses lightly brush against each other. I laugh too and involuntarily sigh. “But I appreciate that you want to make it up.”  


 

“Phil, we are only going to be there a week, do you really need to pack _this_ much?” He says motioning towards the ridiculous amount of clothes on my bed. We’ve been packing for hours and I don’t feel like we’ve achieved much at all.  
“How much did you pack?” I ask.  
“I’m just taking a pair of jeans, some shirts, some jumpers and my coat.”  
“Well so am I.”  
“You have like 40 shirts still spread on your bed…”  
“I wasn’t planning on packing _all_ of them,” I say rolling my eyes.  
“Well _which_ ones are you going to take? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me _what_ to pack.” He’s folding up my shirts and separating categories on top of my mattress– shirts, pants, products, chargers, and it’s so unlike him that I can’t help but stand there astonished and stare at him.  
“What?” He asks when he notices me looking.  
“Dan, how did you get Doctor Michigan to agree with you?”  
His back stiffens. “Agree with me about what?”  
I frown at him. “This trip. He’s not the type of person that would let one of his patients not complete the recommended recovery time after a surgery.”  
He looks down before speaking. “He knows how I’m feeling better and that my lung is doing just fine on its own. I told him about how I don’t lose my breath as much anymore and I guess for him that was enough.”  
He’s trying to avoid my eyes at all costs, which makes me doubt him, only slightly. “Are you going to tell me why you really changed your mind? Why you really want to go?”  
“I told you. I want to make it up to you.”  
“You know there’s nothing to make up for,” I reply quietly.  
“Still… I want to.”  
“Are you sure that is it, Dan?”  
“Stop. What else could it be?”  
“Promise me you are not lying.” There’s something not right about all of this and it’s driving me crazy.  
“Why would I lie?”  
“Dan.”  
“Look, call Doctor Michigan and ask him if that’s going to make you feel better. I won’t question why he allowed me to go, I’m just going to take advantage of it.”  
“Are you sure you are feeling completely okay now?”  
“Phil, I’m feeling perfectly,” he tells me with wide eyes and hands in his pockets.  
“Okay, okay. I believe you then.”  
“Thank you.”  
“You are very welcome.” Liar.  
I don’t know exactly what he’s lying about but I do know there’s something sketchy about all of this. There is something he’s not telling me, something big, but I’m not planning on making him upset right before we take a trip together, so I’ll refrain myself from calling Doctor Michigan and just go with the motions. Surely it can’t be so bad if Doctor Michigan is in for it… unless he isn’t and that’s why Dan’s been rushing everything so much. I might have to actually call the doctor, but I don’t want Dan to think that I don’t trust him, even though that is exactly it. 

 

**Dan**

 

It’s like an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object; only in this case I’m both. Well, I guess my cancer is the unstoppable force or maybe the unmovable object. Either way it is not going anywhere and neither am I.  
Except that I am.  
And I am not ready. Not ready to stop trying out new food, or discovering new TV shows, or learning to play new songs, or buying flowers, or reading books, or staring at the sky, or trying on new clothes, or looking at Phil when he’s not paying attention. Not ready for it all to stop. Not ready to die.  
And I might not have to. Maybe. Michigan spoke about miracles and it’s not like I believe in them but what if that’s how it was supposed to be. Perhaps I wasn’t grateful enough, or happy enough, and so this is my second chance to put things into perspective and stop procrastinating so that once I’m cured I get to live my best life.  
Or maybe I’m just that unlucky.  
Once Michigan said it was all about luck, because I never smoked and never did anything really to incite the possibility of having cancer, he said it all came down to luck and genetics. He tried to make me feel better by blatantly saying that I got unlucky once and that that one time was enough to fuck up my life. We were just getting to know each other, back then I wasn’t used to his bullshit advice and poor taste jokes, so it affected me a lot more than it does now. I don’t know why but that very thought has been hunting me ever since. I constantly wonder what tipped off the scale and I know it was Phil and then I also wonder what evil thing I did to deserve this and that’s where I get stuck because I don’t think I’m wicked or torturous. I don’t think I’ve ever wished sorrow upon anyone. I’m a good person, I think, I hope. I just wish I knew what I did and then I wish I could take it all back (not Phil, though, obviously, I’d rather die a million times before losing him).  
He knows something’s up and that I’m not telling him the whole truth but I’m positive there’s no way he’d ever guess I have cancer again. Why would he? Why would anyone? When my mum called this morning she wasn’t even surprised when I told her that the tests came out clean. Everyone’s blindly counting on my immune system to keep it together this time but they should really place their trust elsewhere.  
I don’t know why I lied to my mum and dad as well, maybe I was scared of disappointing them as well or maybe I was just scared she’d tell Phil. Either way I’ve lied to everyone and I’m not sure it was the best choice. When Phil was drilling me with questions earlier today I felt like I was going to burst into tears right there and vomit out the truth, or maybe just vomit what we had for lunch. He makes me so nervous sometimes; even after all this years he’s occasionally as intimidating as he was when we were just becoming friends. The fact that I want to tell him so badly also does not help my case, I’m not used to keeping secrets from Phil, it goes against all my natural instincts. I usually tell him everything as soon as it happens to me. I don’t know how to live like this. I really hope he doesn’t actually call Michigan, maybe I should call the doctor right now just in case and tell him not to tell Phil, I still have the right to doctor-patient privacy. In the very beginning Michigan used to ask Phil to step out of the room before telling me any health related updates but then at some point after all the times I instructed Phil otherwise, the doctor just stopped asking and simply assumed that Phil was allowed to listen. But not this time, definitely not this time.  
I walk towards the window before opening it and dialing Michigan’s private cellphone (it’s too late for him to still be at the hospital).  
“Is this an emergency?” His voice sounds rushed and confused.  
“It isn’t. Are you not available at the moment?”  
“I am, I just always answer that way when it’s a patient calling. Usually when they call me on my cellphone it’s not a situation where we can make small talk before getting to the matter at hand.”  
“I just wanted to explain that Phil does not know. This is Daniel, by the way.”  
“Of course, I have your number saved.”  
A weird feeling crawls around my hands as I hear this. “Right, well, anyway I was just calling to let you know that if Phil calls you, you are to tell him that I am still cancer free.” Half of my body is outside the window.  
“Pardon me?”  
“No telling Phil I have cancer again, okay?” I whisper rushing through my words.  
“You did not mention to your friend that you have cancer again?”  
“I did not.”  
“May I ask why?”  
“You may not,” I say and then “ because he doesn’t need to know.”  
“I was under the impression you told him everything.”  
“Usually I do but not this time. It’s none of his business.”  
“Is it not?”  
“No.” Why does he care so much anyway? I always knew he liked Phil better than me.  
“Perhaps you should let him know, Daniel. Is he the one accompanying you on your trip?”  
“Yeah…”  
“Then I believe he should be aware of your current health situation. Just in case anything happens, you know?”  
“I’ll be fine.”  
“Daniel.” He says and goes quiet. People need to stop saying my name like that. Like if they do it, I’m just to do whatever they expect from me.  
“I will be. He doesn’t need to know, okay?”  
“I won’t be the one to tell him but you definitely should.”  
“Thanks doctor.”  
“Call me if you come across any mishap.”  
“I will.”  
And then I hang up. I’m physically and emotionally exhausted. I turn around and stare at my empty backpack and consider packing but I really am so tired from helping Phil with his that I decide to deal with it the next day. There will be more than enough time to pack sufficient things for a week before we have to take our train.


	28. Chapter 28

**Phil**

“Dan, come on! We are going to miss our train!”  
“Phil, it’s fine! Relax!”  
It is most certainly _not fine_. The cab that I booked has been waiting for us for the past 15 minutes. We are going to miss the train we already booked tickets for and this guy is not even _trying_ to pack quickly. “Hurry! The cabbie said he’d leave without us!”  
“I’m trying!”  
“You told me you were packed already!”  
“Did I?”  
“You lied to me!” I’m wailing my arms and basically running in place.  
“I _did_ pack, it’s just… I kind of only did it in my mind and might have forgotten to do the laundry.”  
“I _just_ did two loads of clothing last week, how can your clothes be dirty already?”  
“Stop attacking me, okay? This discussion is not helping me go any faster.”  
“Would you just please hurry?”  
“I’m trying!” He says again and I roll my eyes at him. He’s running around with products under his arms and loose clothes around his neck. He’s dropping more than he’s carrying and he’s just throwing it all into a suitcase. No folding no placing no arranging, just dumping it all and pushing it in to make everything fit. I run down the stairs once again to make sure the cab is still waiting for us and when I get there the driver is outside of the car glaring at me. There is a lit cigarette in his hand when he walks towards me.  
“All done lad?”  
“Almost, my friend is just getting a couple last minute things in his suitcase.”  
“If we don’t leave now you’ll miss your flight,” he replies flicking ash onto the pavement.  
“Right, I’ll go get him,” I say scrunching up my nose. There are very few smells worse than tobacco. I go up the stairs taking two steps at a time only to find Dan zipping closed his suitcase.  
“Great, let’s go, let’s go! Hurry!”  
“I’m going! I’m going!” He grabs the luggage and tries to hold it up but then drops it and folds on himself touching his hand to his stomach.  
“Everything all right?” I ask hovering over him.  
“Yeah!” He says smiling up at me. “Let’s go, before the cabbie leaves.”  
“Are you sure? What was that?”  
“Nothing, nothing– the suitcase is heavier than I imagined. I’m good,” he replies but he’s still bending over.  
“Did your hurt your back?” I try to grab his bag but he slaps my hand away.  
“It’s nothing Phil, really. Let’s go,” he says heading for the door, suitcase in hand. I follow him confused but don’t say anything else. 

***

“So what do you fancy doing during this train ride?” I ask Dan as we take our seats.  
“How about I continue writing my book and stare at the road contemplating existence and its meaning?” He says already taking out his MacBook.  
“Noooooo, Dan!” I say pushing his computer back into the backpack. “Come on, you know I get really carsick, I’m going to be really bored.”  
“Stop being such a liar, trains don’t make you sick.”  
“Let’s play something, yes? Please?” I ask tilting my head to the side and opening my eyes really widely. He stares at me disapprovingly so I get closer. “Yes?” He just glowers at me. I get even closer, close my hands and ask again “Yes?”  
Dan sighs, “fine.”  
I smile and nod, sitting back. “What do you want to play?”  
“I don’t know, whatever you choose.”  
“Okay, let’s play Eye Spy,” I say jokingly.  
“No, Phil. Hm… how about we just ask each other questions?”  
“Questions? I’m pretty sure we already know everything there is to know about us.”  
“Maybe, but we’ll never be sure if we don’t at least try to know new things about the other, right?”  
“I’m pretty sure I haven’t left out any details...”  
“Just humor me, alright?”  
I nod. “Fine.”  
“Great, then I’ll start,” he says smiling. “What was going through your mind the first time we met?”  
“I’m pretty sure we’ve talked about this before but okay. At first, for a millisecond, I studied your face making sure it was actually you because it would have been really awkward if I had hugged a random stranger. Then, I immediately felt happy and excited. I was also a huge nervous mess, which you probably realized by the way I was acting. Basically all I wanted to do was give you a big hug after talking online for so long.”  
When I met Dan it felt like that was the one thing I was always meant to do. I mean of course there was a lot I wanted to accomplish and a lot I still want to do, but meeting him felt like something that was written onto my life plan the moment I was born. Like there are things in my life that wouldn’t have happened if I had done something slightly different or there had been a small change in my surroundings but no matter what, I was always meant to meet Dan, regardless of the circumstances and the time, I was always meant to find him.  
To this day I still believe I’d be able to find him, in every country, every planet, every galaxy, we would manage to find our way to each other.  
I remember how it all started, when this random account began tweeting me constantly I felt a bit overwhelmed but we did share most of our interests so we started sending each other messages and then, at first slowly but then all of a sudden, we were friends. I knew this would last, because you don’t let go of a person like Dan. Finally seeing him in person felt like I had been seeing him my whole life, like he was this person I had always known even though the possibility of him being a 40-year-old cat woman was still in the air.  
“Okay…” he says studying my face, “your turn.”  
“Why did you keep the questions from the first PINOF we filmed?”  


 

**Dan**

I can feel myself blushing. In all honesty, I am still not completely sure. Filming that video with Phil, it was a sort of milestone for me. It meant _something_ ; after all, he was the one that convinced me to actually start doing Youtube videos.  
Meeting Phil… it felt like I had finally found the one, you know, the one person that would be there for me through it all. Of course I didn’t know back then, not for sure anyway. I was just a kid, and Phil, well, he was just an older kid. But whenever we were together it felt like we belonged in each other’s lives. That day it felt important to keep it. I’ve always been a sentimental person, and that video was the very first one Phil and I had ever filmed together.  
“I don’t know, I guess I wanted a souvenir of our first video together,” I say to him.  
“Oh, that’s fair,” Phil shrugs. “Your turn.”  
“Right, um…” I think about what I actually want to ask him and immediately try to think of something else.  


 

We continue to exchange meaningless questions back and forth until a voice abruptly announces that we’ve arrived at the Brighton train station. I’m surprised by how fast the ride was and so I look out the window incredulously.   


 

**Phil**

When we arrive to Brighton, miraculously it’s not raining. I help Dan with his suitcase and then request an Uber. Dan seems to be in a cheerier mood than usual, almost frantic. He is looking at his phone and tapping his fingers.  
“The Uber is going to be here in like five minutes so we should probably go outside,” I say.  
“What?” Dan replies, distracted.  
“The Uber?”  
“Oh, right, sorry. Let’s go.”  
We wait outside for the Uber and when it arrives I help the driver put our luggage in the trunk. I take my sit next to Dan and realize he’s still nervously fidgeting. I place one of my hands on his bouncing knee and catch his drumming fingers in the other. “You alright?” I ask him trying to decipher the look in his eyes.  
“What? Yeah. Perfect,” he replies smoothly sliding his fingers out of my grip. I let go of his knee on my own and go on Twitter to kill the time, I haven’t tweeted in a while so I try to come up with something as we make our way to the hotel.  
“Hey Phil?” Dan asks breaking the silence.  
“Mm?” I reply distracted browsing through Twitter moments.  
“Can we go for a walk on the beach tonight?”  
“Won’t it be too cold?”  
“Nope, just checked.”  
“Alright. Any reason in particular?”  
“Not really, it’s just, I haven’t been to the beach in a while.”  
“Oh, of course. It’ll be fun,” I reply looking down. Is that the whole reason we are here? That he hadn’t been to the beach in a while? I doubt that reason was enough to convince Doctor Michigan. I didn’t have enough time to call him yesterday but perhaps I should set aside a space to do it today. I feel like an intrusive asshole but the curiosity is killing me. This whole thing has me feeling really confused and Dan’s nervous manners are only making it worse.   


***

“But I booked a room with two beds,” I say slowly. The receptionist at the hotel has just informed me that there are no double rooms left but only one with a king size bed.  
“I’m truly sorry, my partner just started working here a couple weeks ago, I guessed they booked it wrong,” she replies now.  
“But… How can there be no more rooms left?” There has to be at least _one_ room with two beds or _two_ rooms with one bed.  
“I really don’t know what to tell you sir… People are here on vacation,” She replies like it’s so obvious I shouldn’t be thrown back by it.  
“To… Brighton…? On… October?” I ask with an incredulous tone. She’s not happy about it.  
“I’m sorry, but there’s truly nothing I can do. It’s the only room we have available.”  
“And you are telling me there is only one bed in it?” I say in a questioning tone even though she’s already informed me numerous times that that is, indeed, the case. I can see the frustration written all over her face and that she’s trying so hard not to roll her eyes. She just nods.  
It’s not like Dan and I have never stayed in the same room or in the same bed, just never since he got sick. My mind is spinning, creating impossible scenarios, all of which end with me somehow hurting him in my sleep. Even though he says he feels great now the scar that is spread along his side hasn’t completely healed yet and I’m positive it still hurts him.  
“We’ll take it,” Dan says moving away my fingers from my mouth. My index finger is already bleeding. Stupid, gross, habit.  
The receptionist then hands Dan two card keys and a brochure with tourist activities we “might enjoy”. I’m still too nervous to act human so I just grab the suitcases and head for the lift.  
“Uh, sir, if you don’t mind I can help you with that.” A bellboy is standing next to me, towering me actually, he must have trouble finding jeans that are long enough.  
I nod and let him take our luggage. “Thanks.”  
We head for the lift and the anxiety is making by lower lip bleed.  
“What’s the matter?” I can feel Dan’s eyes on me so I look up at him.  
“Nothing, it’s all good,” I say. There’s really no excuse to feel like this, I’m being an overdramatic idiot.  
We get to the eight floor where our room is and Dan uses the card to open the door. The place is a good size, the color palette is dull, as it happens with most hotel rooms, the carpet’s a dark grey, a color probably chosen to hide the different stains that every guest has left as proof that they were here, the walls are also grey but it’s a lighter shade and the furniture is bright white and beige. There’s a king size bed, a T.V., and a small launch area with two couches and a little table. Right across from the entrance there’s a white french door that leads to a terrace where there’s another small table and a couple of chairs. It’s a really nice room, even if it’s not exactly what I had in mind. I guess that’s what happens when you plan everything on a day’s notice.  
The bellboy places our luggage on a table and wishes us a good day. I tip him before he steps out of the door and then I just stand there sort of looking at him as he walks away but also not really focusing my sight.  
“Should we get going?” Dan asks from behind me.  
“I thought you’d be tired from the train ride,” I reply turning around and shutting the door.  
“We literally just sat down for an hour and did nothing,” he says and I am aware of that, but he used to always be so tired, seeing him like this is still surprising.  
“Okay then. Let’s go.”   


 

The beach is full of pebbles, hazardous uneven ground, and I start to feel nervous thinking about Dan tripping over any of them even though I am aware that it is far more possible I’m the one that ends up falling on their face.  
We walk close to the water but not enough for it to touch us. The sky spreads grey above us and the wind is blowing cold against our skin, however, it’s not bad at all, it’s at a temperature where it still feels nice to be walking outside. As I’m looking at the sea, suddenly Dan intertwines his fingers with mine, which is not unprecedented, but also not usual. I look at our tangled hands and then at him. His face is serious, like he’s thinking hard about something. He’s biting his lip and his eyebrows are furrowed. I squeeze his hand.  
“Everything alright up there?” I ask tapping his temple with my free finger.  
“Not really, but not more messed up than usual,” he replies half-smiling. His hand feels soft and familiar. He starts drawing small circles with his thumb on the back of my hand and a warm feeling spreads all over my arm– all over my body.  
We keep walking along the shore but don’t say much at all, every now and then I’ll make a comment about the things I see and he’ll make a small joke but we mostly spend our time together in silence. He doesn’t let go of my hand and I don’t let go either but I try not to think about it. When I spot a couple of good-looking rocks I guide us to them and we sit down. The day is coming to an end with the twilight chasing the waves.  
“The sunset’s really pretty today,” I say staring at the sky. It’s a perfect mixture of pink and orange; all the colors collide and bend on each other to form several shades within the same range.  
“It always is,” Dan says letting go of my hand and taking his phone out. “Let’s take cute pictures of each other, like we always used to.” He’s smiling now, truly smiling. It lights up his entire face. His brown eyes are so full of life in this moment and his dimples, which I don’t get to see very often, make me feel soft all over. I can’t help the need to hold him and so I do. I softly wrap him in my arms. He still feels fragile, very thin, but he also feels like Dan, warm, soft, tall. I hug him tighter for a second and then I let got.  
“What was that for?” He asks. His face is matching the colors of the sky.  
I move my head from side to side. “Let’s just take pictures.” I reply smiling and taking the phone from his hand.  
He looks so beautiful against the sky on fire and it feels like it was always just he and I, no illnesses and no pain. Sometimes I wish I could bottle up moments, keep them in crystal jars, and replay them whenever it feels like the memory of it is fading away. I wish I could keep this moment with me for the rest of my life, so I try to with what I have, I study Dan’s profile as he looks into the sea and take a picture, then I tell him to look at me and take another, capturing his side smile. I take so many pictures of him, as many as I can, and he looks so alive in all of them. I’m so happy I start laughing and I’m doing it so hard that I fall on the sand. Dan looks at me like I’m the weirdest person he’s ever met and I probably am. He joins me on the sand and starts laughing as well. When we finally stop I rest my head against his shoulder and try to get my breathing back to normal. He rests his head on mine and I can feel his curls against my hair. Everything is so good right now; I wish it would never end. I wish it was always like this.   


***

We get back to our hotel room, to our one-bedded hotel room and we’re glowing.  
“So one bed, huh,” Dan says eyeing the white comforter.  
“I can sleep on the couch, Dan,” I reply staring at the loveseat across from me. I could make it work, I could switch through the night, lay my neck comfortably with my legs in the air, and then lay my legs comfortably with my neck twisted to the side. At this point I’ve gotten used to sleeping on sofas, so much I should be renowned for it.  
“Are you kidding me, Phil?” He is giving me this incredulous look like I’ve just announced I’m actually a football fan and I can’t help but smile.  
“I’m just saying! First of all, I am more than used to sleeping on couches and second of all, you know, you might want your space, and also, I move a lot in my sleep,” I say.  
“Oh I know, but I don’t mind as long as, you know, you don’t crush me.”  
“Well, see, that’s exactly what I’m terrified about,” I reply biting my fingernails.  
“Shut up, I’m joking,” Dan replies exasperated.  
“Alright then,” I say jumping on the bed, ruining the perfectly aligned covers. Dan rolls his eyes and slowly sits next to me.  
“Your dirty shoes are staining the white comforter, you slob.”  
“No they’re not,” I reply but I sit up and reach to take them off.  
“So what do you want to do?” Dan asks and I laugh at the question considering that we are sitting in the bed together. He understands immediately where my mind went and lightly bumps his shoulder against mine.  
“I wasn’t asking it like that you perv.”  
“Let’s just watch a movie, shall we? That walk on the beach really tired me out,” I say grabbing the remote from the bedside table. I studied Dan’s breathing throughout most of our walk and it remained steady at all times which made me too happy to really be able to describe it. But I’m still apprehensive; I don’t want to push it.  
“You should really do more cardio,” he says taking the remote from my hand.  



	29. Chapter 29

**Dan**

We spent the last hours watching movies in bed and ordered room service. Phil is for some reason so happy and I’m getting drunk from it. My head is filled with mushy clouds and my heart is so full that it feels like it might explode, like my chest is not big enough to hold it anymore.  
I get out of bed and go to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and wash my face trying to sober up a little from all that’s going on.  
Sometimes, when you are in places at the wrong time, or in the wrong situations, it’s like you’ve stepped into another dimension, like reality has somehow been altered. Some people refer to these as “liminal spaces”, like schools at night when classes are over or empty parking lots or rest stops. They are these places existing in-between things, they’re not something by themselves because their pure purpose is to take you from one place to another. Take a person’s life, for example, their life in itself is the liminal space, the _from_ is your birth and the _to_ is your death. Right now, I feel like I’m in a liminal space, where reality has been altered and I’m not dying, where Phil is happy and I am happy and we love each other like we are supposed to. I am living in-between life and death, but I am right in the middle just like everyone else, and not leaning over to the death side, like I usually am.  
I look at myself in the mirror and my face looks flushed. My hand is still tingling from holding Phil’s earlier. I don’t know where I found the courage to do that but it felt really nice to do so. I couldn’t read his face then so I’m not sure what he thought of it or what he thinks it meant. He probably wasn’t in the same space of mind as I was but that’s okay. Today’s been really great, lying on the sand with him and doing nothing else was somehow pure magic. I could feel time passing and the world moving around us but I couldn’t find it in me to care. Feeling his head against my shoulder and his hair against my own was… not enough, not anymore, but it was still memorable and beautiful and sweet.  
I step out of the bathroom feeling a lot calmer and then my pulse starts accelerating because I suddenly remember I did not bring pyjamas with me. I was in a rush and I thought, _whatever I’ll sleep in my pants, it’s not like I’ve never done it, it won’t be a problem_. Except that now I have to sleep in the same bed as Phil.  
“Phil…” I say quietly.  
“Yeah?” He asks distracted by the movie.  
“I uh, I forgot to bring pyjamas with me.”  
“Oh,” he says. “See this is why you pack a day before.”  
“I’m sorry. I thought we’d be sleeping in separate beds.”  
He twists his mouth. “I guess it’s fine.”  
“You sure? I can sleep on the couch.”  
He pauses the movie. “If anyone is going to sleep on the couch that’s going to be me. Do you want me to?”  
I consider it. I don’t want to make Phil sleep on the couch but I also don’t want to be in bed with him while I’m not wearing anything but pants. I think about it but feel guilty almost immediately so I shake my head.  
“If you don’t have a problem with it then neither do I,” I say resolutely.  
“Great. Then can we go to sleep already? Because I’m feeling knackered.”  
“Sure.”  


 

He. Is. So. Close.  
He was tired enough that he fell asleep immediately and now I’m left awake and staring at him in the darkness. I can actually _feel_ how close he is. It’s stupid, we were sat even closer when we were watching movies but somehow now that the lights are off and we are under the covers it’s _different_.  
I run my hands through my hair and breathe in. There are _actual, real_ , problems in my life that I should be worrying about, like for example, the fact that my whole body is collapsing in on itself.  
But Phil.  
Phil is once again way too close and yet so, so, far away. I reach slowly with my hand and then draw it back. We are not actually touching right now; I don’t think I could really deal with that. I can barely make him out in the blackness that surrounds us, I can just about manage to see the outlines of his face and shoulders and chest.  
Even in the darkness he looks beautiful.  
I turn my back to him and close my eyes to try and fall asleep but after I’ve gone through my usual list of embarrassing moments I’d rather forget I give up and stare at the grey wall in front of me. I can feel Phil on my back even though he is not actually touching it. It’s like he’s radiating some type of energy, the type I’d rather stay away from.  
I chickened out today. So many times.  
I know it’s the one reason we are here, number five on my list, but if it was already scary on paper, thinking about actually pulling through with it makes my intestines dance. 

 

**Phil**

I wake up to Dan lying on my chest, his arm drawn across my stomach. I look down moving only my eyes trying really hard not to move at all and realize he’s still asleep. How did he end up _there_? Only then I notice that my right arm is loosely wrapped around his shoulders. _Okay_. How did my arm end up like _that_? He’s sleeping so soundly that I don’t want to bother him so I just look at his curls instead of waking him up. I move my arm away though, really slowly, in order not to disturb him.  
Having him rest over my chest and stomach is making me breathe funny; I don’t want to inhale a lot of air in case it’s too much movement and it wakes him up. I try to hold my breath but after a couple seconds it’s too uncomfortable to do it any longer.  
One of his bare legs is touching my covered one.  
I feel trapped. I consider sliding out from under him to let him comfortably sleep longer but I know I’m way too clumsy to achieve that without him noticing. I look down at him again and ponder on the possibilities of how we ended up like this.   


 

**Dan**

I open my eyes to a bright room that I don’t recognize. I try to focus them and then I remember that I’m in a hotel in Brighton. In bed. With Phil. I move my head slightly upwards and there he is, looking at me.  
“Hi there,” he says and his face is so close I sit up as fast as possible. My head begins spinning then– it feels like I’ve left it on his chest.  
“Fuck, Phil, I’m sorry.” Why the fuck was I lying on his chest? I am such an awful moron.  
“It’s okay. I’m not sure how _that_ happened but I didn’t want to wake you up anyway.”  
“Well, you should have.”  
“You looked tired,” he shrugs. “You didn’t fall asleep at the same time I did, did you?”  
I look down embarrassed. Both my face and my neck are so hot they could start a fire. “No. It took me a while to fall asleep.”  
“You can sleep longer if you want,” he says getting out of bed. “I really tried my best not to wake you up. I’m sorry.”  
“You didn’t. Don’t worry.” I’m too ashamed to actually move. I can’t believe after I finally managed to fall asleep my body found a way to somehow drag half of itself on top of Phil. I can’t even look at him. I was full on laying on him. No boundaries, no personal space.  
“I’ll take a shower, but you should get some extra sleep, really.”  
Once he is inside the bathroom I lie back on the bed and cover my face with the closest pillow, which smells like Phil. I then proceed to deeply inhale the scent before throwing it as far away as possible. How are we supposed to go about our day after this? What did he even think when he woke up and saw me like that? He didn’t look angry at least… Did he look uncomfortable? _I_ feel uncomfortable. Perhaps the best thing to do now is to just forget it even happened. Yes. Forget and move on.   


 

“What?” Phil asks.  
I raise an eyebrow. “You have food all over your face.”  
“No I don’t,” he says but then uses the back of his hand to clean his mouth.  
“You still do,” I reply and consider just cleaning the crumbs myself but I refrain from doing so. We haven’t spoken about the morning incident and I’m hoping we never do. We decided to chill out today and just explore town, hopefully it will be distracting enough that we both remain oblivious to the incident for the rest of the day.  
Phil rolls his eyes at me and then drags his cloth napkin across his entire face. “Better?”  
I put a spoonful of cereal in my mouth. “Mhm.”  
“I can’t believe out of everything in the buffet you chose cereal,” he says eyeing the bowl in front of me.  
“I wasn’t really hungry.”  
He frowns and I immediately regret my wording. “Everything okay?”  
I make my best attempt to give him a smile. “Everything’s great. Thank you for coming with me.”  
He copies my smile and it looks more real than mine ever could. “I’m still confused about how sudden it was, but I’m glad we are here.”  
“Sometimes it’s good to be spontaneous, Phil.”  
“So is that why we are here? You wanted to be spontaneous?”  
I study his face and I know he’s not buying it so I stare into his eyes when I reply. “Indeed.”  
“If you say so…”  
“Why won’t you believe me?”  
“I never said I didn’t.”  
“You didn’t have to. Your face says it all.”  
“I was about to say the same thing.” I was the one to fix Phil with my eyes but now it feels like he’s the one that’s impeding me from looking away. He’s squinting a little, like he can’t quite figure out which part out of everything I have told him is the lie.  
“I’m not lying to you, Phil.”  
“There’s something you are not telling me.” His eyes look so dark it’s as if the blue in them has frozen and turned grey.  
People continue to live their day around us– having breakfast, chatting, walking. It seems that it always happens this way. Even when people surround us, it’s always just him and me alone and then everything and everyone else on a different plane of reality.  
I don’t look away and neither does he. I don’t know what to say. There are two things I’m not telling him and I’m not ready for him to know either.  
“I’ve told you everything you need to know.”  
“What does that even mean?”  
“It means that you already know what you _have_ to know.”  
“You know I trust you more than anyone else in the world, right?”  
“So do I.” I feel so guilty. I know I should tell Phil about the cancer but, at the same time, I don’t want to force on him the sorrow that I am already carrying. I’ve caused him enough pain for a lifetime. I can’t continue to ruin his life anymore.  


***

Brighton is lovely. We went into so many cute stores, ate ice cream and drank the tastiest coffee ever. The weather was also delightful, the sun was out but the wind was still blowing, so the day wasn’t overwhelmingly hot.  
I held Phil’s hand most of the day. Whenever we stepped out of a store I just took it and that way we walked around town. It made my insides melt a couple of times. I don’t know what it means that he keeps letting me take it but I guess friends hold hands sometimes, right? (And cuddle at night, apparently). And it feels so marvelous. I wish I could hold on to him for the rest of time.  
We are on our way back to our hotel and we are softly swinging our arms. His fingers fit perfectly in between mine, it’s almost like the universe wants us to be together so badly that it created us so we could match perfectly with each other. I turn my head to look at him and he’s smiling, just a little bit, almost imperceptibly. I let my eyes slide down to our hands and my heart sinks in the best way possible.  
If I’m going to die, I’m glad I at least got to experience _this_.  



	30. Chapter 30

**Phil**

Dan and I are sat on the floor next to each other, our arms touching. We’ve spent the entire night talking and it’s now around 3:00 A.M. How I managed to stay awake this long after walking all day, I don’t know, but I’m very happy I did.  
“Are you scared, Phil?” He says now, taking the conversation into a different path.  
“Scared of what?” I ask confused.  
“You know, life.”  
I think for a minute. “I don’t think so, are you?”  
“Well, see, I don’t get to live one. Not a long one anyway.”  
“What do you mean? You are all better now. You are okay.”  
He nods. “Right. You are right.”  
I try to read his face but he just looks very serious, almost defeated and something inside me breaks. I guess he’s still scared that the cancer might come back, that he might still suddenly die. It makes sense, I suppose you don’t get over having cancer that quickly, but I didn’t know he was feeling this way.  
“Are you scared of it coming back?” I whisper.  
His entire face falls and his eyes turn watery. He doesn’t say a thing, he just bites his lip and nods again. All I want in this moment is to protect the boy sitting next to me from absolutely everything that might harm him but even though I have been trying to do so everyday it’s starting to down on me that maybe I can’t.  
I settle for holding his hand in between mine.  
“You don’t deserve to feel like this, Dan. You deserve so much more than what has been given to you, and I promise you that if I could, I would give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” I’m looking into his eyes and they’re filled with sadness and loss and resignation. I can’t take it.  
I think about kissing him.  
I hadn’t thought about kissing him since the year we first met and the thought surprises me so much I jump back. I feel Dan’s hand slip out of mine and I look up to see him staring down at his now empty palms. He’s still biting his lip and his cheeks have gone red. I stare at him with wide eyes and think about kissing him. Even back during that first year when I wanted to kiss him everyday I was scared of how he might react but he’s so close right now.  
I think about kissing him. About closing the space between us and finally giving in. _Finally._  


 

**Dan**

I stare at my hands and wait for my heartbeat to go back to normal. Even though Phil moved back he’s still close enough to feel his breath on my face. I feel my cheeks getting warmer and I just wish it wasn’t the fact that I am dying that got us here.  


 

**Phil**

He’s so close I would only have to lean in a little bit and our lips would be touching. I could wrap him in my arms and vow to never let go but I know that the odds are against us and that that’s a promise I might not be able to get behind. My time with Dan is limited and I want to kiss him.   


 

**Dan**

I can feel Phil staring at me but I’m too scared to look up in case there’s pity written in his face. I just want to let go and not think anymore. I want to do what I’ve always wanted to do, what I came here to do.  


 

**Phil**

Dan leans in, only slightly, and his lips linger close to mine, not quite touching them. All the years of doubt and fear make me hold my breath and tense my shoulders and then I remember that this is what I want too so I close the small gap between us.  


 

**Dan**

I can feel his lips moving against mine and yet it doesn’t feel real. _Phil._ Even now, when it was me that planned this whole trip to kiss him, he’s the one that makes the move. _Phil._  
I open my eyes when he gives me the chance and I’m out of breath. I’m staring at his lips, too scared to look him in the eye and then he places his hand very softly underneath my chin, forcing me somewhat to meet his gaze. There’s nothing but love in his eyes, maybe a little excitement, a little relief, but mostly an overwhelming amount of endearment. I smile at that and he smiles back. The little crinkles around his eyes make me want to kiss him again and so I do.  


 

**Phil**

I’m hugging him so tightly, in the back of my mind I worry about hurting him, but the rest of me just wants to hold him even closer. I wrap my fingers around the curls at the back of his head and sigh.  



	31. Chapter 31

**Phil**

We are on the bed and Dan’s head is resting against my chest for the second time today. I’m playing with his hair and smiling. I can’t stop smiling. He’s drawing patterns with his fingers on my stomach and I feel like this is the world saying, ‘you guys deserve a break’. I touch my lips to his hair and he smells like home, and a little like vanilla.  
“What are you thinking about?” He asks.  
“I don’t know, how about you?”  
“You. I’m thinking about you.”  
“What about me?”  
“Just how much I like you.”  
“And how long has it been since you started liking me?”  
“I’ve always liked you, Phil.”  
“You know what I mean.”  
“I do, and I’m telling you the truth. I’ve been thinking about kissing you since I first found your Youtube channel.”  
“Oh.” That makes my smile grow bigger, which I thought was impossible, but somehow my face is defining the laws of physics and stretching into an even wider grin. I kiss his hair again and he turns his head to look at me.  
“Pretending I wasn’t in love with you was the hardest thing I have ever done,” he says.   


 

**Dan**

I wake up once again spread all over Phil’s chest and my arm wrapped loosely around his waist. I slowly sit up and hold my head in between my hands trying to retrace everything that happened last night and then it all comes back at once. _Phil_. _I_ actually _kissed Phil_.   
_Phil_ kissed _me_.  
We kissed so much last night that my lips went numb, it was like we were making up for nine years of lost kisses.  
We also talked a lot and it was all just _so good_.  
“Hey,” a groggy voice says behind me.  
“Good morning,” I say turning around. “You look very handsome today,” I add before leaning in to give him a morning kiss.  
“I could get used to this,” he says against my lips and I sit back.  
“Don’t.” I get out of bed and shake my hair.  
“Wait,” says Phil, “don’t go.”  
How do you go from kissing someone to telling them that you have cancer yet again? _Oh, and by the way, I forgot to mention, you can’t get used to it, be cause I’ll be gone soon and we need to get that into our heads._ “Things are still in the air Phil,” I say instead. “The cancer might still come back, we need to keep in mind that… well, you know, that I might still not make it.” How many times can you say ‘might’ in a sentence before it becomes suspicious? I need to tell him soon anyway, I just need to find the right moment… or the least dreadful one.  
“No.”  
“Phil, come on.”  
“I will never, ever, entertain the idea of a world where you don’t exist,” he replies as he walks over to where I’m standing.  
“Well, you _might_ have to.”  
“Stop.”  
“Phil, I need you to be ready,” I say and then I quickly add, “just in case.”  
“I can’t–”  
“Well you’ve got to,” I say cutting him in.  
“Would it be that easy for you? To picture a world without me?”  
“You are not dying, Phil.”  
“Neither are you,” he says raising one of his ginger eyebrows. “ _But_ if I were dying, would it?” he insists.  
“Of course not, but I need to know that you’ll be okay if anything happens,” I say softening my voice and taking his hand.  
He shakes his head. “Can we just… not do this right now? Not that this isn’t tons of fun but… please? It’s not even something that we presently need to be worrying about. The tests came out negative. You are okay.”  
I decide to give him a break. “Of course, absolutely. I just want you to be all right. I need you to be happy.” I squeeze his hand.  
“Then kiss me,” he says leaning in.  


 

We have breakfast in bed and then Phil goes into the bathroom to take a shower. As I’m choosing what I’m going to wear today it downs on me that I can finally cross out number five on my list, so that’s two done.  
I never thought this day would come, even in my wildest dreams whenever I pictured how the kiss would go down, it never ended well. Certainly not with Phil’s lips against my neck at 4 A.M. and cuddles in bed. Or with Phil’s hands tracing my face and mine tracing his shoulder blades. In my fantasies I never pictured him telling me that he loves me or how soft my lips are or how much he likes the way I smell.  
I should have seen it coming, that Phil would go beyond any possible expectations I could’ve ever built and I wasn’t ready. Kissing him felt even better than I ever imagined, it was like my whole body was on fire, like I was going nova. At one point I thought I was going to combust, I legitimately thought there was no way my body could hold so much excitement and happiness and love.  
I feel like I’m in a state of trance, like I’m not sure how to properly wake up. I just keep replaying the events of last night over and over again in my head. Is this how the universe balances out my shitty luck? By giving me what I’ve always wanted the most?  
Does it even count if I don’t get to enjoy it for long?  
I don’t really know how bad it is, or how long I have left, but Michigan kept naming body parts and that couldn’t possibly have a positive outcome.  
I’m not ready to go– especially not now.  
As soon as we get back I’ll talk to Michigan, I’ll try to find my way out of this again. I did it once before, surely I can do it again, right? Except that now it’s nothing like last time because you can only take a person apart so many times before their body simply just stops functioning. I squeeze my eyes shut to try and hold back the tears but they spill anyway and leave their mark down my face.  
How can a person be so joyous yet so sorrowful at the same time? I decide to create a temporary safe in my head and throw my worries in it before locking it shut. I’m going to enjoy my time here, with Phil, and leave cancer out of my mind for the rest of the trip. Brighton will be a cancer free zone from now on. I’ll worry about it later when I’m back home.   


***

In the afternoon we decide to go to the beach again and after a while I feel too tired to walk any longer so we sit on the pebbles, on the spot furthest away from the pier, furthest away from other people. Phil’s hand is warm and reassuring around mine.  
The fog makes it hard to see where the water ends and the sky begins, it’s all blended together and it reminds me of the way my brain mashes all of my thoughts into a giant loud blur.  
“I thought about kissing you all of 2009 and part of 2010,” Phil says suddenly.  
“What?” I ask distracted.  
“I’ve always liked you too, but when I realized, or thought I guess, you didn’t like me back I gave it up so we could be friends, cause one way or the other I was planning on spending as much time with you as possible.”  
“You’re dumb.”  
“I know.”  
“And I love you so much.”  
“I know,” he repeats. “I love you more.”  
We sit there and enjoy each other’s company until it gets too cold and Phil has to wrap his bomber jacket around my shoulders. I’m hiding my face in his chest, breathing in his scent and he’s holding on to me like I’m that door that Rose wouldn’t let Jack get on in Titanic. I wonder how DiCaprio felt playing a character that was doomed to die because that was the destiny that had been written for him, I also wonder who wrote my destiny and why they decided that it was to die in my 20s.  
“We should get going,” Phil says after a while, “it’ll probably start raining soon.”  
I sigh, “yeah, okay.” I unwillingly move my head away from Phil’s chest and start to take off his jacket but he stops me.  
“You can keep that,” he says smiling, “it looks good on you.”  
I can feel myself blushing and something catches in my throat so I just nod. He gets on his feet first and reaches for my hand. I let him take it and pull myself up, it takes me a second to catch my breath and when I do, I press my lips against his again, because I don’t have a lot of time left to kiss him, because I’ve been wanting to do this since I was 18, because he is my best friend and I’m irremediably in love with him.  
It’s sweet and messy and warm and sad, like all good things in life.  


 

We don’t make it back to the hotel before the rain starts and so when we get to the room we are both soaking wet. I take off both jackets and only then I really see Phil’s shirt– it is completely drenched. I can’t help but notice the way in clings against his body and the splash of color that rises to my cheeks.  
“You should probably change into something dry,” I say vocalizing one of the many thoughts I’m having right now.  
“Yeah,” he says unbuttoning his shirt. “That escalated really fast, it pretty much turned into a full storm in like five minutes.”  
“I know, right?” I reply laughing.  
He takes his shirt off. “Do you want to do anything else tonight or can I get into my pyjamas?”  
I’m too busy staring at the way the light hits his collarbones to form a coherent answer. “Pyjamas is good.”  
“What?”  
I shake my head and stare at the floor. “I mean, I’m tired, we can just stay in tonight.”  
He nods and kneels next to his suitcase fishing for something to put on. “I love the way you look in red, by the way.”  
I stare at down at my outfit confused. “I’m not wearing red…”  
“Your face is,” he replies smiling.  
“It’s not like this is the first time I’ve seen you shirtless.” I reply rolling my eyes but I can feel my face burning brighter.  
“Yeah but not since we became boyfriends.”  
The word shocks me so much I feel all the blood in my face return to wherever it belongs. “Is that what we are?”  
Phil stands up and walks towards me. “If you’ll have me.”  
I freeze in place and stare at him with wide eyes. I try to come up with something that expresses accurately what I’m feeling but all the words seem to get stuck on their way out of my throat. I try to move then, to _show_ him, but my limbs are non-responsive. Phil’s smile stars to fade.  
“Or not… it’s okay if you don’t want me to be your boyfriend.”  
I shake my head violently. “ _Phil_.” I wrap my arms around his neck tightly.  
“Is this your way of subtly rejecting me?”  
I move my head back but leave my arms around him. “No, you fool. This is me not being able to function like a regular human being, as usual.”  
“I’m not good at that either.”  
“I know. That’s why we match so well.”  
“I think I have heard that somewhere before.”  
I can see the night sky behind Phil, through the open curtains, and for some reason I feel like stepping outside and thanking the moon. The moon and the sun and the planets and the whole galaxy for giving me my own personal sun.  
“I’ll have you for the rest of my life,” I say.  
He smiles softly and hugs me, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. “You smell like rain, I love it,” he murmurs against my skin.  
“I can’t believe we waited so long to do this, what were we thinking?” I say holding him tighter. It feels like I’m holding my whole world in between my arms.  
“I was scared,” he replies taking a step back.  
“Of what?”  
He shrugs. “I don’t know, of you rejecting me, of you not liking me back, of ruining everything we had.”  
I look at him incredulously, “you speak like a mad man.”  
“I speak like a reasonably frightened man.”   


 

I’m sitting with my back against Phil’s chest and he’s leaving a trail of small soft kisses along the length of my neck and even though I can’t breathe and even though my whole body is collapsing, there’s no way life could be better than right now.  
I consider telling him now about the cancer being back but he is so happy right now, he told me so, and I’m not ready to snatch his glee away. I keep the safe locked in my brain and melt onto the boy that became my home so long ago.  



	32. Chapter 32

**Dan**

For a place that doesn’t have any extra rooms available in its hotels, Brighton is pretty empty this morning. Phil and I are having breakfast at a lovely café we found down the road and besides another couple and us it’s completely deserted.  
I woke up with a sore throat today and almost slipped and told Phil about it but I’m sure if I had he would’ve immediately pieced everything together and realized what I’ve been hiding from him.  
I have to tell him. I _will_ tell him.  
Back in London.  
The safe I created in my mind is still locked and I don’t plan on opening just yet. I will enjoy living in denial for as much time as possible, until we go have to go back home and then I’ll tell Phil.  
He’s staring at me like when he’s trying to decipher what I’m thinking. It’s always my face that gives it away, it’s like I’m an open book in that sense. Carrying all my emotions on the surface of my skin.  
“Have you considered going back to Youtube?” I ask him in an attempt to distract him.  
Phil pushes a strand of hair out of my face and nods. “Have you?”  
“Yeah… But I don’t really know how to,” I reply. Filming ‘one last video’ is on my list of things to do before I die and given my current circumstances it is something that I should start seriously thinking about. I don’t know what it will be about, or if anyone will want to watch it. I don’t even feel in the appropriate creative space to successfully write and film one.  
“What do you mean? Like you don’t know what it will be about?”  
“Exactly, but also I don’t know how to talk to a camera anymore… It feels weird, meaningless almost.”  
“How come?”  
“I spent so much of my life online and I still do because I love it but I feel like there’s no point in documenting little anecdotes anymore.”  
“You always said the people watching your videos gave them meaning.”  
“Yeah but no one’s watching anymore.”  
“Because they don’t have anything to watch. People still care, Dan. They’re still out there and I can promise you if you uploaded a video, they would watch it.”  
“I still wouldn’t know what to talk about.”  
“I don’t know either, that’s why I haven’t filmed anything.”  
“It used to be so easy to just jump back into it when an idea struck but now, I don’t know, it’s like my brain has dried out.”  
“That’s exactly how my brain feels– done.”  
“I didn’t know it was like that for you as well.”  
“Oh, it is. Going back to Twitter and other social media wasn’t hard at all but Youtube feels different, somehow. I don’t know why.”  
“I get that. For me, it’s like I feel people on Youtube expect more from me, you know? And I’m not sure how you come back from telling everyone that you have cancer.”  
“You didn’t make a video about that.”  
“I made a live show.”  
“Still, the last video you uploaded to your channel wasn’t related to cancer.”  
“I don’t even remember what video it was.”  
He frowns and bites his lip. “I think it was about… Was it like a story time type?”  
“I mean, probably, but I can’t be sure. It really has been a while.”  
“Either way, if you don’t even remember then your audience probably doesn’t either. It’s almost like starting on a clean slate.”  
“That’s a very positive way of looking at the situation at hand.”  
“It is?”  
“Yes, a very Phil way of looking at it, I would say.”  


 

As the sun goes down –way too early for my sake– I begin to dread going to back to London fully knowing that once there I have to face reality and come clean with Phil.  
It’s not that I’m scared of how he’s going to react, it’s more that I know once I tell _him_ , it’s going to be real. Nowhere else to hide, nowhere else to live happily in denial.  
My head is about to burst, reminding me that no matter how much I try to ignore it, the cancer is still there, continuously destroying my cells, killing everything on its path. It’s almost as if I could see it, slowly crawling around my body, tainting it in black, leaving a hollow trail behind and it’s so close to reaching my heart, so close to painting me whole, I feel like at some point there’ll be nothing left to grasp, nothing left of me.  
I’m scared.  
The safe in my brain shakes violently as it tries to release the secrets that I’m so afraid to speak out loud.  
What will they all say? Will they think that I failed? Will they even care?  
I just hope Phil won’t be mad. It’s not like us to keep things from each other but it’s also not like us to make out, so I guess we are trying out a lot of new things lately.  
My _boyfriend_ is sat out on the terrace, reading a book that he bought before I even got sick and had completely forgotten about, blissfully living in ignorance.  
It’s not all bad. Especially not considering I get to call Phil my boyfriend, even if the pleasure won’t last me as long as I’d hoped.  
Forever is a corny concept, definitely far too cheesy for me to ever use it unironically, but right now it’s hard for me not to wish I had it at my disposal to share with Phil, even if that forever lasted us 70 more years, it would be more than enough. We could do so much, see so much, create so much.  
I’ve seen death a lot in movies and books and TV shows and there have been some deaths that have broken my heart, some deaths that have made me cry and even some that made me furious. But to be dying, to accept one’s own demise is completely different and particularly confusing when you have depression. Some days I wake up wanting it, _craving_ it, an end to the pain, to the uncertainty, to the hollowness and the nightmares and the guilt but some other days I look at the sky and I listen to a particularly good song and I have long conversations with Phil and I drink a cup of hot coffee and I could never get enough of those days. My brain is in a constant state of duel and confusion.  
I wish it would all stop.  
I wish I could disappear without hurting anyone else.  
I wish it would all just slow down.  
I’ll plan out what I’m going to tell Phil tomorrow, on the train ride back home, I’m always at peace when I’m on trains, it’s almost like the passage of time isn’t constant, like it doesn’t affect me. When I’m in a train time isn’t real, there is no actual constraint, all I have to do is sit there and wait, there is no rush or need to slow down, it just is and I’m free to do whatever I want without feeling like I’m wasting my life.  
It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. I just have to push through this once again. It’ll all be okay as long as I don’t give up, as long as my body doesn’t give up on me.  
I can do this. I _will_ do this. I refuse to let cancer get the best of me.  


 

**Phil**

“What are we doing for Halloween this year?” Dan asks walking into the terrace.  
I look up from my book. “I’m not sure, did you have anything in mind?”  
“I haven’t been invited to any parties, I can tell you that much,” he replies sitting down next to me.  
“We never get invited to parties. Going to a party was never an option.”  
“Should we stay an extra day in Brighton, then?” Dan suggests.  
“Do you want to?” I ask raising my eyebrows. I hadn’t considered spending Halloween away from London.  
“I feel like if in the end we do feel like doing something we have a better chance in London than here.”  
“That’s true. Although I’m fairly certain we’ll end up at home doing nothing,” I say knowing that that’s exactly what’s going to happen.  
“Well that’s only like my favorite thing to do, so fine by me.”  
“I wholeheartedly agree,” I say as I place a kiss on Dan’s forehead. It’s weird how natural it feels to be doing all of this… all the kisses and the handholding and the everything else. Besides the chills I feel every time my lips touch his skin, it feels like we’ve doing this for our entire lives.  
Dan smiles up at me and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes are so brown and the freckles around his nose decorate his soft face in such a beautiful way. I feel my heart clench at the thought of losing him and then a feeling of relief washes over me as I remind myself that he isn’t sick anymore.  
The prospect of being with him for a long time excites me, it makes my heart beat crazily against my ribcage and my stomach flutter. There are not enough days to make up for all the time we lost but I’m planning on getting as close as possible.  
“What are you looking at?” Dan asks scrunching his nose. My stomach does a 360-degree flip at that.  
“Nothing. Your pretty face.”  
“My face is not pretty,” he replies blushing.  
“Your face is the prettiest face I have ever seen,” I tell him as I notice my own face getting hot. It’s ridiculous, I’ve known this boy for almost ten years and now I’m blushing over him just because we kissed.  
But, oh, the kisses.  
There are no words to describe the kisses.  
I wish I could go back in time and kick myself and then convince me to make a move. Thinking about all I missed out on for being a fool makes me annoyed but it also makes me thrilled at the prospect of catching up and doing it all now.  
“Let’s go out,” I blurt out.  
“What? It’s already really late, Phil.”  
“No, it’s not. It’s only 6 P.M.”  
“It is?” Dan asks looking up at the sky.  
“Yeah, the sun just decided to tap out really early today.”  
“I thought we were getting closer to midnight than lunch time.”  
I chuckle. “I know, but we are still in time to go get dinner somewhere fancy.”  
“Fancy? Fancy as in I have to dress up and brush my hair?”  
“No, I wouldn’t say so. Just somewhere with a nice view.”  
“You have a place in mind already, don’t you?”  
“Well, I did see this place, ‘The Restaurant at Drakes’, when we were exploring town and it looked really pretty.”  
“Oh, right, I saw it too. Well okay then, I’m in,” he says flashing a side smile.  
“You really do have a pretty face,” I say standing up.  


 

‘The Restaurant at Drakes’ is apparently quite popular amongst locals; when Dan said we should make a reservation I was dubious but now I’m grateful we did, as I overhear the host inform a woman the waiting time is of one hour.  
“See, I told you it would be a good idea to make a reservation,” Dan says echoing my thoughts.  
“No one likes an ‘I told you so’, Daniel.”  
“I never actually said ‘I told you so’,” he tells me before walking towards the man assigning the tables.  
I roll my eyes and follow him. Dan tells the man his last name and then we are guided to our table.  


 

**Dan**

They sit us right in the middle of the room and I don’t know why but it feels like everyone is watching us, just staring at our backs, observing our every move. Everything is so loud and moving so fast. Phil notices I’m feeling uncomfortable and places his hand on top of mine.  
“Everything alright?”  
“Don’t you feel like everyone is… _staring_ at us?” I whisper as I look around us.  
Phil frowns and discretely looks at the tables surrounding us. “No, not really. I think you are just being paranoid.”  
“Are you sure? I can literally feel someone’s eyes burning on my neck.”  
“Dan, I’m telling you, literally no one is paying attention to us. Come on, let’s look at the menu, that’ll distract you.”  
I try to do what Phil says but there’s a ringing in my ears that won’t let me concentrate, I try to make it go away pressing my palms against the sides of my head but it just gets stronger.  
I _know_ this feeling. I know what is happening; I just don’t know what caused it. I try to tell my brain that it’s okay, that _we_ are okay but it’s in full defense mode. I try to breathe but it’s like the air is refusing to inflate my lung, it feels like I’m going to die.  
I don’t have to be paranoid anymore, now everyone is watching us, for sure. I can see Phil’s lips moving but the world is too loud and my brain is too overwhelmed to do anything but freak out.  
I get up from my chair and walk towards what I presume is the bathroom, then slam the door open and rest my hands against the closest sink, dropping my head. I try to force my lung to work, I try to calm my heart but the floor under me is moving and I still feel watched. I turn around abruptly and study the stalls but they’re all open and there’s nobody in them.  
“Dan? What can I do?” Phil says walking in, palms up, eyes wide open.  
I try to speak but I’m too busy hyperventilating so I just move my head from side to side. My hands and my face have gone numb and I just want to collapse on this bathroom floor and sink and forget that I have cancer and just be done with the whole thing already.  
Why can’t it just stop?  
Why can’t the world just stop?  
Why can’t it just pause for a moment to let me take it all in?  
That my body is being carved and stripped away.  
That I kissed a boy.  
That I kissed the love of my life and he kissed me back.  
That he’s standing right in front of me with worry in his eyes and that we are boyfriends now.  
That my mum wants be to go live with her and perhaps I should because this might be the end.  
That the doctor said there’s still hope.  
That miracles _can_ happen and _have_ happened.  
That I haven’t finished that stupid crumpled up list that’s underneath my bed, back home.  
Why. Can’t. It. All. Just. Stop.  
Phil takes my hands in his and takes a step closer. He tries to catch my eyesight and hold it, and then he inhales deeply, waits a couple of seconds and exhales. I try to mimic him and he nods slowly. We breathe in and out so many times I lose count but my body begins to act normal again.  
When it feels safe to do so I whisper, “Thank you, Phil.”  
“Do you want us to go back to the hotel?”  
“No, no,” I say. “It’s okay, really.”  
“Are you sure, Dan?”  
“Positive. I’m sorry I ruined the night, I don’t know what happened.”  
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he says running the back of his hand across my cheekbone.  
“I did, and I’m seriously sorry. It was so dumb.”  
“Stop talking like that. Nothing that makes you feel like that is dumb. Do you know what it was?”  
Oh, the usual. “I don’t. My body just suddenly started freaking out.”  
He frowns and softly pulls at one of my curls. “We can go, you know?”  
“I can do this, Phil.”  
He nods. “Okay then, let’s go, but if it all becomes too much again we leave, deal?”  
“Deal.”  


 

The rest of the evening went without incidents and the food was incredibly good so I guess that made my panic attack worth it somehow. We ate so much (mostly a lot of desert) we decided to walk back to the hotel but I’m still feeling pretty full.  
“You know, you could help me out,” Phil says from the floor. He’s packing his suitcase but he bought so many sweets and treats it doesn’t close anymore.  
“Phil, I haven’t even packed my own suitcase, why would I pack yours?”  
“I’m not asking you to _pack_ mine, I’m just asking you to _help_ out.”  
I roll my eyes and get up. “Ugh fine.”  
“So the main problem are this cookies,” he says handing them to me.  
“I think the main problem is how bad you are at packing,” I reply sitting down next to him.  
“Are you an expert at packing, now?”  
“I’m at least better than you.” I start to take things out of his suitcase and refolding them.  
“Hey, about this afternoon. Are you ready to talk about it?”  
“It was nothing, Phil. You know it’s like that sometimes.”  
“Okay, well, if you are ever ready to talk about it, you know I’m all ears.”  
I don’t look up and concentrate on neatly folding one of his jumpers as I say, “I do know. Thank you.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back back back back again.
> 
> Hello, I'm sorry for going awol on all of you. It's been a busy time with uni and all that fun stuff. Thank you to everyone that's read this and that has commented on it, seeing what you all say really does make my day. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, there's some drama but mostly a lot of fluff. 
> 
> I'll try to update more often, I promise. Here's my twitter: @lazyfangirl and tumblr: lxzyfangirl, in case I disappear again, that's where you can reach me and pressure me. Love ya.


	33. Chapter 33

****

**Phil**

On the way back to London Dan is very quiet, he spends almost all of it staring out the window and every now and then it looks like there’s a glisten in his eyes but I can’t be sure, it might just be my imagination. At one point I place my hand on his knee to attract his attention but he just slouches against me, keeping his eyes glued to the road.  
He still feels so fragile, so small under my hands– his skin clinging to his bones. I softly rest my head against his hair and it feels soft against my cheek. Last night when he had the panic attack I felt so protective of him that my body just didn’t know how to handle it. It felt like I would combust right there from not being able to properly help him. When people began staring at him, I wanted to shut each of their eyes with my hands, ask them all to leave so it could just be him and me.  
I’ve always been protective over him, I don’t know if it’s because of the age difference or the fact that he was so lost when I first met him, but I’ve always felt the need to make sure he is okay, that he is happy and that need just got more unbearable when he got cancer.  
Now that he is cancer free, I just want to put him inside a glass case, or a bubble, whatever will protect him from the rest of the world. Just in case.   


 

We get home around noon and Dan heads straight for his bedroom then storms out and begins searching for the camera we used to use to film Youtube videos.  
“Where is it?” He asks while digging inside the covert that’s under the T.V. “Were you the last one to use it, Phil?”  
“I don’t think so… It’s been so long though, I can’t remember.”  
“It has to be here somewhere; were we robbed without us noticing?”  
“Doubtful.”  
“Then. Where. Is. It?”  
“Trust me if I knew I would have told you. Can you stop running around now? You’ve searched the same places multiple times already. I don’t think it’s just magically going to show up.”  
“Well, what do you suggest I do, then?”  
“Wasn’t there a day where you decided to go out and take pictures of ‘nighttime London’ like back in January?”  
“Yeah, but with my phone, and I didn’t get that far, I gave up about to blocks away from here,” he replies exasperatedly, slumping onto the nearest couch.  
“Look, we’ll find it. It’s close by, I can feel it.”  
“Can you?”  
“What do you want it for anyway?”  
“A video.”  
“Are we filming a sex tape?”  
“I mean if you are into that… No, you idiot, I want to film a Youtube video.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well, what’s the rush? I mean, I’m sure the camera will appear sooner or later.”  
“Right. I just really wanted to get it done as soon as possible.”  
“Why?”  
“Just because. I don’t need a reason to want to upload a Youtube video, Phil. It _was_ my job.”  
“No, of course. I just meant, why right now? We just got back; aren’t you tired?”  
“You know what? You are right,” Dan replies lowering his sight and staring at the floor. I, in turn, stare at him confused. There really is no need for him to want to do everything so hastily but if it means that much to him…  


 

After a whole hour of looking everywhere in our place, I finally found the video camera hiding behind some lights and microphones. Everything was evenly covered by a thin layer of dust, which made me realize how long it’s been since either of us did anything Youtube related and also how intelligent past Dan and Phil were to save up and invest, because, boy, if we hadn’t, we’d be in some _big_ trouble now.  


 

**Dan**

The whole room has fallen silent and the sky has changed color outside my window. My back is beginning to cramp up from the sitting position I’ve been holding for the past hour. The tree that’s right in front of my room has lost 27 of its leaves and 4 ambulances have driven by. I’ve had to recharge the camera once and went to get water twice. During my second time drinking the water it occurred to me that maybe it was time to water my terrariums, which I did. I then proceeded to wash my teeth just in case, I wouldn’t want to have something stuck in between them on my comeback video.  
On the other side of the room the list that I made so long ago haunts me, all crumpled up and with its ink running, my tears permanently imprinted on the piece of paper.  
The camera and I continue our staring contest, so far it’s winning and I don’t see any possibility of me beating it. I consider drinking another glass of water but then decide to do so only after I’ve peed. I take my time thoroughly washing my hands, staring at my teeth, making sure nothing is wrong with my face (nothing besides the usual). I head to the kitchen, drink the entire glass of water even though I’m not thirsty and decide to do the dishes. I take them out of the dishwasher one by one and wash them by hand, once that’s done, I dry them and then put them back in the coverts.  
When I go back to my room the camera’s battery has died again. I take it out and charge it; we’ve lost all our spare ones.  
I look at the notes I quickly scribbled on my computer after we got home from Brighton: ‘Why I decided to leave.’ ‘Joke about not going outside.’ ‘What this has taught me.’ It’s all trash and it’s not like I’m being at all specific, which makes the whole filming process even harder.  
I sit on the floor and stare at the batter as it charges. My head and throat have been killing me all day, and I’m considering taking my third Ibuprofen. The more the battery charges the more defeated I feel. Even my choice of clothes seems wrong.  
I unplug the battery, put it away along with the camera, change into pyjamas and go into the living room where I find Phil spread on the couch watching a movie from the 80s.  
“Hey there,” he says raising himself on one elbow.  
“Hello you.”  
“How did the filming go?”  
“It didn’t,” I reply sitting by his stomach.  
“Were the creative juices just not flowing?”  
“That’s a horrible way to put it but yeah, basically.”  
He sits up then, facing me, and places his hand against my face. “Well that’s all right, you can try again tomorrow or next week. No one is pressuring you to do this.”  
“I know, but it’s something I really want to get done, you know?”  
“I know you can do it. I believe in you,” Phil says softly touching his nose to mine. It fills my head with haze.  
“Thanks. Maybe tomorrow my brain will be more willing to cooperate,” I whisper.  
“I’m sure it will.”  



	34. Chapter 34

****

**Dan**

“Happy Halloween,” I hear Phil say behind me and it sounds like he’s wearing braces.  
“Why, thank you,” I reply turning around and that’s when I actually _see_ him and notice the reason behind his slight slur. He’s wearing cheap makeup, fake fangs and a bright red cape around his neck.  
“Do you like it?” He asks through the plastic teeth, doing a little turn around himself.  
“I didn’t know we were dressing up,” I reply eyeing him up and down.  
“Don’t worry, I got something for you to wear.”  
“Oh, that does not sound like a good idea. I do not trust you.”  
“Shush,” he says waving a hand in front of my face. “You’ll love it.”  


 

Turns out I do love it.  


 

****

**Phil**

Dan looks great in a suit.  
I wanted him to feel good in his skin, so I got him a nice suit and used Halloween as an excuse. He’s supposed to be Jay Gatsby but in my opinion he looks way better than Leonardo DiCaprio.  
“So why are we dressing up?” Dan asks still looking at himself in the mirror. “Are we going out somewhere to celebrate?”  
“Well, not exactly. But we are going out for snacks so that we can come right back to have a spooky marathon.  
“Okay… But we cannot go out like this.”  
“What do you mean? Why not?”  
“Because, Phil, we look ridiculous.”  
“But you are just wearing a suit.”  
“I think the fact that it’s entirely white and that I’m wearing a gold tie might draw a little attention, don’t you think?”  
“Well, personally all I can think about right now is how handsome you look,” I say smiling.  
“Oh, is that so?”  
“Yes, indeed,” I reply taking a step closer.  
“Well, you do suit that eyeliner very well, if I do say so myself,” he says leaning in.  
“Thank you, it took me all morning to sort it out.”  
“Mm, yeah?” He asks smiling before kissing me.  
When we manage to let go of each other I notice that Dan’s face is now smeared with white face paint and I have a feeling mine might be missing some.  
“You got a little something…” I say pointing at his chin.  
“And you are lacking a little something,” he replies grinning. “I’m sorry for ruining your makeup.”  
I shrug. “I wasn’t sure about the white face paint anyway.”  
“So you really want us to go out like this?”  
“Dan, seriously, you are just wearing a suit. Relax.”  
“Yeah, I am, but you are wearing a _cape_.”  
“My cape is cool and everyone will be jealous of it.”  
“I’m really not sure, Phil.”  
“Come on, Dan. Why are you trying to ruin the spirit of Halloween?”  
He rolls his eyes. “Ugh, fine whatever then, let’s go.”  
“I have to fix my face first now that you’ve stolen half of my makeup but I’m glad to see you so eager.”  
He rolls his eyes. “Just hurry up you twat.”  


 

****

**Dan**

It takes Phil about fifteen minutes to completely remove the white mess and when we finally step out I notice that the day is colder than I expected it to be. As we walk down the street a shiver runs down my spine. Phil, of course, notices and let’s go of my hand.  
“Do you want to borrow my cape?” He says very seriously with his hands now wrapped around the knot that keeps the fabric in place.  
“Please,” I say, my teeth slightly chattering. “Gatsby would never.”  
“Maybe if he was cold enough.”  
I smile. “I doubt the cape would help me much anyway, but thank you.”  
“Do you want to head back?”  
“No. I’ll be fine. The day really is lovely, just a little colder than I expected it to be.”  
“If it’s too much, just let me know, okay?” He asks taking my hand again. I simply nod in response.  
As we make our way down the street, the leaves crunch under our feet. The whole city turned into an autumn painting while we were gone. The trees have lost most of their foliage, which has now turned the roads into carpets of brown, orange and red.  
By the time we turn around the corner, my teeth are chattering I must have chipped at least one.  
“Let’s get you a warm drink, shall we?” Phil asks squeezing my hand.  
“I’m fi– fine, Ph–Phil.”  
“There’s a Starbucks right over there, just humor me okay?” He’s smiling so softly it warms me more than any hot beverage ever could but I agree anyway and he begins leading the way.  
As soon as we step into the Starbucks my body shivers with relief and my muscles begin to relax. Perhaps going out without a coat wasn’t the best idea. We order our drinks (I order them, no one can understand Phil because of those fangs.) (I told him to take them off before heading out.) from a girl that decided to dress up as a giant tarantula, which in theory sounds cool, but is not entirely practical, especially when you are going to be stuck behind a counter in such a crowded space.  
We find a spot to sit on once we have our drinks and I snuggle against my warm cup trying to regain some body heat. I take a sip that burns my tongue but feels deliciously hot as it travels down my throat and fills me with the warmth by body wasn’t able to provide itself. I move my fingers slowly, trying to unfreeze them and briefly consider pouring the entire cup of coffee all over my hands and face before my fingers and nose fall off.  
“I know you look great in the Gatsby suit and all, but you really should’ve worn a coat, Dan.”  
“I’m aware. It’s your fault for finding me such a great costume.”  
His face lights up. “You really like it?”  
“I love it, are you kidding me? Let’s just hope my love story has a better ending.”  
“Any ending would be better than what Gatsby got, from what you told me.”  
“Daisy really was an awful person. I don’t know what he saw in her.”  
“Sometimes when you fall in love, you stop seeing people’s flaws.”  
“But that’s at the very beginning. It’s later, when you see their flaws and love the person because you realize that’s what make them who they are, that it becomes truly real love.”  
“Daisy’s flaws are hard to get past, though.”  
“Daisy is the worst person and does not deserve any form of love, which is why she ended up with Tom.”  
“Trash people do tend to end up together.”  
“It’s why we work so well, Phil,” I say smiling.  
He rolls his eyes. “You are the worst.”  
“And you have cream all over your face.”  
“When don’t I have food all over my face?” He asks before licking his top lip.  
I grab the paper napkin I got with my coffee and slowly drag it across his cheek cleaning off the cream he couldn’t reach himself. The fact that not long ago I wouldn’t have dared to do this makes me giggle.  
“What?” He asks from under his eyelashes.  
“I really do like you.”  
“Why thank you. I like you too.”  
“You honestly have no idea how much I like you.”  
He really doesn’t. Not even if he was able to read my mind would he even begin to grasp how much I like his face and the random animal facts he knows and the way he laughs and how creative he is and how his hair always falls perfectly around his face. He truly has no clue how his eyes make me feel or how I used to dream about his smile. Phil could never even begin to understand how I feel when he holds my hand.  
Although the way he’s looking at me right now makes me feel like he just might.   


 

****

**Phil**

When I get to door of our apartment I’m surprised to notice Dan isn’t by my side. I look down the stairs and see him resting against the wall.  
“Everything all right?” I shout.  
“What?” He asks looking up.  
“Are you okay?” I feel my forehead crease up.  
“Absolutely, my shoelaces just came undone and I was considering whether or not to tie them up but then decided against it as I didn’t want to leave all the candy on the floor.”  
“Oh… Okay…”  
“I’ll be right up, though!”  
I nod before turning back and stepping into the flat. My chest slowly fills up with something uncomfortable, something dark. I try to shake it off and focus on my task at hand: make the list of movies we are going to watch later. Dan’s on snack duty, which is why he’s carrying most of the candy right now (he said he didn’t trust me with them.)  
When he finally walks through the door his face is flushed and his knuckles look white, as if he was gripping the bags unnecessarily strong. I take them from him and place them on the counter, then face him and place my hands on his shoulders. He’s about two inches taller than me but I stand up straighter and look into his eyes, trying to find an answer, to find whatever it is that he’s not telling me. He stares back with a bored expression but I can tell he’s trying really hard to keep it that way.  
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Something’s off.”  
“Is it?”  
“Yes. Ever since you asked me to go to Brighton with you.”  
“You are talking crazy, Phil. There’s nothing going on.”  
“Promise me.”  
“What do you want me to promise you?”  
“That everything’s okay.”  
He softly holds my face then, his brown eyes burning into mine. “Just trust me okay?”  


 

****

**Dan**

I told Phil that I wholeheartedly trust him with the movie choices because I have to keep him distracted; he keeps shooting worried glances at me.  
I _need_ to talk with Doctor Michigan as soon as possible so I have something solid to tell Phil. Something like, _Okay, here’s the thing, I do have cancer again,_ however, _Michigan and I already talked and there’s this new magical miracle drug that cures all types of cancer no matter what stage it is! Even if it is consuming your entire body! So there’s really nothing to worry about!_  
It’s all hanging on by a thread now. Literally depending on a miracle. I’ve lost what little control I used to hold, I’m spinning uncontrollably waiting for an outside force to stop me and keep me put.  
I don’t even know _where_ it is anymore. Before, I could pinpoint the pain right down to my chest but this time I can’t even find it, it’s all over and it comes in waves, each time attacking a different part of my body. My throat, my leg, my chest, my head. I don’t even know where the cancer has settled. I can’t even wish it away because I have no clue which part of my body it has decided to fuck up this time.  
I sneak off to my room when I notice Phil is fully immersed in his quest to create the perfect spooky marathon and dial Michigan’s phone. It rings twice before the voice of a woman greets me.  
“Doctor Michigan’s office, how may I assist you?”  
“Hello, this is Daniel Howell. I would like to speak with Doctor Michigan, please.”  
“Of course, Daniel. Give me a minute.”  
“Absolutely, thank you.”  
“Good evening Daniel,” Michigan says after a short while.  
“Hello Doctor, how are you?”  
“I’m all right. How are you?”  
“Been better, didn’t last long though, did it?”  
“I’m sorry Daniel.”  
“It’s not your fault. I was calling because I need to do something about this. What can I do?”  
“We could start with chemotherapy.”  
“ _Start with?_ I’d really prefer if we begun with something a little more discrete.”  
“Still haven’t told your friend, I assume.”  
The word friend makes my stomach uncomfortable and reminds me that Phil and I should start telling people we are dating now. But not right this moment. There are more pressing matters. “I have not.”  
“You can always come to the hospital to get the chemotherapy like at the very beginning of your journey.”  
“Is there no other way?”  
“I’m afraid not, Daniel. The cancer… well, it covers a significant part of your body.”  
“Will it be the same chemical that I was being administered at the start?”  
“Yes and no. We’ll have to add a couple of new drugs. It’ll be stronger.”  
“Should I actually consider using the cold cap thing this time?”  
“You mean the scalp cooling caps. It is far more likely that you will suffer from hair loss this time around, however, I must warn you, using the caps can be quite uncomfortable. Painful even.”  
“Painful?”  
“Yes. Most people can’t bear to do it.”  
“Okay… that’s just great. I guess I’ll have to think about it then.”  
“When should I ask my receptionist to schedule your first session?”  
“As soon as possible. Is tomorrow good?”  
“I believe so. I’ll ask Dana to e-mail you the details.”  
“Thank you Doctor Michigan.”  
“There really is _nothing_ to thank me for.”  


 

Phil’s movie choices are excellent, just like I was expecting them to be and together we managed to create the perfect marathon; Phil included truly scary movies, 80s/90s classics, a couple of funny ones for comic relief and some random ones just for the fun of it. We teamed up to decided the order in which we would watch them and I think it is absolutely ideal for a spooky night in.  
He comes dancing in from the kitchen balancing three bowls full of snacks in his arms and his mouth full.  
“Stop eating the candy! Can’t you wait five more minutes?” I scowl him.  
“To me the marathon has already started so technically I am allowed to enjoy the snacks without you reprimanding me.”  
I look up to the ceiling. “Just pass me the Dorito’s”.  


 

I slowly open my eyes and the first thing I see is Sarah Michelle Gellar getting murdered in a dark alley. I notice then that Phil is asleep under my arms, his legs intertwined with mine.  
“Phil,” I whisper trying to wake him up.  
He slowly blinks. “Huh? What?”  
“Hey there.”  
“Oh, hi. I think I fell asleep.”  
“You did but I did too so it’s okay.”  
He turns to the T.V. then. “Did they kill Sarah yet?”  
“I’m afraid so.”  
“Then there’s no point staying up to continue watching the movie. Let’s go to bed.”  
“I love that plan.” I wait until Phil gets up and I’m no longer squeezed between him and the couch and then I sit up. “Wait. Which bed?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, I mean, since we are together now…”  
“ _Oh. Which bed._ Right. Hm, well let’s look at this practically. Who has the best room?”  
“Mine has better interior design.”  
“Does it?”  
“And it’s bigger.”  
“That is true.”  
“Any counter points?”  
“You know what? I’m too tired to debate this. Let’s just go to bed.”  
“Right, but which one?”  
“Whichever,” he replies swaying a little.  
“Okay. I don’t think you are fully awake. Let’s get you back to sleep. In my room,” I tell him sliding my arm around his waist and helping him walk.  
“ _Our room_ ,” he murmurs.  



	35. Chapter 35

**Dan**

November was off to a great start. I started attending my chemotherapy sessions and I simultaneously started lying (or started lying _more_ , I guess) to Phil. During the first one I ran into Charlotte (who still seems to somehow have an unexplainable crush on me) and she was overly kind when she realized the reason I was back there. She kept patting my arm and my hand and my shoulder and stayed with me during the whole thing. She did her best to distract me from the pain I was in as I felt the cold cap seeping into my brain. It literally was like having a brain freeze but times a hundred; I could not hold back the tears for the first 15 minutes, they just kept rolling as my hands battled the urge to rip it out of my head. I could barely keep up with the conversation, as my teeth never stopped chattering, even after Charlotte brought me a blanket and draped it across my lap. There were only two more people in the room, and only one of them was wearing a cold cap as well, but they didn’t seem bothered which gave me hope that maybe you get used to it at some point, until I saw the tension in their knuckles and their pressed lips.   
The whole experience made me seriously wonder whether wearing the cap was worth it at all but there is absolutely no way I could get away with such a progressively rapid hair loss without being forced to come clean to Phil about everything. Maybe I should consider getting a wig… Or maybe I should consider stop being such a wuss and telling him the truth.  
For the first session I told Phil that I was getting a haircut and so I had to go get one afterwards even though I was miserable and my scalp felt like it had been boiled.  
Not everything has been miserable, though. On the first Sunday of the month we celebrated Bonfire Night with Bryony and some of her other friends. I’d completely forgotten we had been invited to that and that we had agreed to go until Phil marched into my– our room and asked me if I was ready to go.  
I was still in sweatpants and barefoot. Positively not ready.  
Bonfire Night came around really quickly. Time is still going by really quickly. Running out.  
In the end we got to Bryony’s a little later than planned but no one seemed to mind whatsoever. It was nice and familiar and did not require a lot of physical effort, which seems to be my basic requirement for any sort of social gathering now that I have started chemo. It hasn’t really affected me that much yet but I do remember just how awful it used to make me feel and I’d rather be cautious than taken by surprise.  
Bonfire Night has always been one of my favorite holidays regardless of the twisted and dark meaning behind it; food and fireworks never fail to be the ideal combination and this time was not the exception. We ate tons and even made s’mores which no one besides Phil and I had tried before.  
Everyone in that room assumed I was just as healthy as them and though it may sound odd it felt nice to pretend. It was nice to feel normal and alive. Even if only for a little while.  
Is there a term for that? For when you enjoy lying to your friends? Perhaps it’s something similar to ‘cunt’.  
As the night began to die out, Phil and I found a couple of lounge chairs that were somewhat secluded, in the corner of the terrace, and offered us a great view for when the fireworks started.  
“I like how your hair turned out,” he said.  
“Thank you,” I replied smiling. “I was due a haircut, I was beginning to turn back into my 2012 self.”  
“Please, anyone but your 2012 self.”  
I laughed at that and just then the fireworks started. I wrapped my fingers around Dan’s and stared at the different hues as they spiraled up, sideways and around, decorating the night sky. We were alone again, back in our bubble, even though we were surrounded by people cheering as new bursts of color appeared in front of us. The city was sparkling beautifully, every couple of seconds a new splash of light would appear, changing the view entirely, and they were so loud they were drowning out everything else.  
I turned to look at Phil for a moment and realized he was staring wide-eyed at the display, with parted lips. I could see the sparks reflected in his eyes and then something else. I squeezed his hand and felt immediately calm just from the small gesture. I was once again reassured that I could surpass everything as long as I was holding his hand.  
Once the fireworks stopped most people left and the ones who didn’t went back inside, but Phil and I stayed in our chairs looking up at the now starry but mostly smoky sky. We’d dragged the furniture together and our shoulders were touching. My hands were resting on my stomach and his were divided, one on my leg, one on his.  
“Last time we were looking at the stars I wanted to kiss you,” he said with a cheeky side smile, still staring up.  
“When was that?” I wondered.  
“That time we fell asleep in the park.”  
“Oh God, I still can’t believe we actually did that and I can’t believe we didn’t get pneumonia.”  
“It wasn’t that cold, it was September after all. I was more surprised that we weren’t mugged.”  
“It feels like that happened ages ago, not months.”  
“I know.”  
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, backtracking to what he first said.  
“Huh?”  
“Why didn’t you kiss me then?”  
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d want me to.”  
“Fool.”  
“Hey! Why didn’t _you_ kiss me?”  
“That’s different.”  
“How?”  
I didn’t answer him but shook my head instead. “Can you believe we are here now? _Dating?_ Being _boyfriends?_ ”  
“Sometimes it’s hard. Some days it still shocks me.”  
“I can’t believe it took us this long.”  
“Hey, at least it’s happening now. It could’ve taken us another year, another lifetime.”  
“You can kiss me now,” I simply replied and stopped myself from thinking about time.   


 

And that’s how we announced to our friends that we were officially dating.  
Later that month we both told our parents. No one was surprised. In fact my mum _actually_ asked me why we took so long although I could feel something very close to resentment in her voice. I guess she thinks Phil has stolen me away from her in some sort of way, something that never seemed to bother her, until I got sick.  
During that same call I decided to tell my parents about the cancer being back, which quickly soured the happy announcement. I heard my mum hold back a sob and then my dad was on the phone. Of course Phil wasn’t in the house while this exchange happened and so I told them that my new boyfriend had no idea so that they would refrain from mentioning anything cancer related in his presence. My dad wondered out loud if that was the right choice and I told him it wasn’t but that I was too afraid of what would happen if I told him, of what might change. He told me maybe I would be less scared if I actually allowed myself to ask Phil for help, to have him by my side in dealing with everything, and it took me by surprise, although it shouldn’t have, he’s always been great at reading me.  
The rest of the month was quiet and uneventful. Every Thursday I had to make up a different excuse and sneak out of the flat. I didn’t realize this very obvious pattern would become a problem until Doctor Michigan called me one day to tell me Phil had reached out to him and asked him if he knew what was going on. Michigan assured me he didn’t say a thing but that did not ease my nerves.  
I genuinely don’t know why I haven’t told Phil yet.  
I was about to, as we watched the fireworks on Bryony’s terrace, but then he got all lovey-dovey and I chickened out.  
My excuses continued to get more and more ridiculous every week and by the fourth Phil was proper done with it.  
“I have to get milk, Phil. Otherwise how do you expect me to drink my coffee?”  
“You never put milk in your coffee.”  
“True, but you do. I’m just trying to be a good boyfriend.”  
“I’ll come with you then.”  
“I’m just getting milk, there’s really no need.”  
“There is a lot of need. I want to come with you.”  
“Well, I don’t want you to come with me.”  
He slowly took a step back. “Why every Thursday?”  
“What?”  
“You always have somewhere to be on Thursdays.”  
“No, I don’t.”  
“Dan, every Thursday of this month you’ve had to go out at exactly the same time.”  
“Probably a coincidence.”  
“Stop lying!”  
“I’m not!”  
I stormed out. I ran away. He didn’t deserve to be left alone with his questions and glassy eyes but there was no lie good enough to satisfy him. There was no reasonable explanation besides the truth.  
I decided to miss chemo this first week of December as to not give Phil an aneurism and things have calmed down a little since last Thursday.  
Today we are putting up the Christmas tree as well as the rest of the Christmas decorations. It’s too early for us, it’s only the 8th of December and we usually begin decorating after the second week but this year I’ve felt particularly festive and I figured if a tree is going to die just so that we get to decorate our house, it might as well be up there for as long as possible.  
Phil goes to our storage room to fetch the decorations’ boxes and after three trips we are surrounded by holiday cheer. We slowly begin hanging the fairy lights around the tree, trying to spread them as evenly as possible and once that’s done we begin hanging the ornaments, they’re a combination of fancy white and silver ones and then random colorful (tacky) ones, but surely there’s no wrong way to decorate a Christmas tree. We then continue to place more decorations and lights around the house. After about four hours the boxes are empty and our flat looks like it got vomited on by Father Christmas himself. In a classy sort of way, though.  
“Something’s missing,” I tell him looking around as I can’t pinpoint what it is that’s bothering me exactly.  
“Well, we have to turn on the fairy lights. Maybe that’s going to pull it all together,” he replies.  
“I can do that,” I say. I walk around the house switching on all the lights and then I kneel down next to the tree, reaching for the plug. After a second, the way our living room looks changes completely. I get up and step back in order to appreciate the tree in its entirety.  
“It’s lovely,” Phil says wrapping his right arm around my waist.  
“I know,” I reply resting my head on his shoulder.  
“Especially with that pizza ornament that you tried to place at the back.”  
“Well, that’s because it doesn’t go with anything else.”  
“Yeah, it does. With the cactus you also tried to hide.”  
I roll my eyes. “You have no taste.”  
“I love you,” he laughs and then pulls me into his chest.  
“I love you more,” I reply into his shirt, securing my arms around him.  



	36. Chapter 36

**Phil**

Dan has spent most of the weekend writing his book and distracting me whenever I ask him to let me peak. I mean, it’s not like I don’t enjoy the methods he uses to distract me, but I _am_ curious.  
“What are you up to?” I ask him now, placing my hands on his shoulders.  
“Just writing,” he says lowering the brightness of his computer.  
“May I read a little?”  
“It’s not any good yet. Filled with typos. Doesn’t really make sense.”  
“Please?”  
He turns around and rolls his eyes at me. “You’re so stubborn.”  
“Is that a yes?”  
He shakes his head and then rolls his chair out of the way. I eagerly lean in to read what appears to be chapter seven, according to the top of the page. He’s narrating one of the chemotherapy sessions he had back when he first got sick. I remember it very clearly because that’s when I realized that that nurse had a crush on him and also because the entire room was watching Great British Bake Off. Everyone was incredibly invested in the show and cheering for their favorite contestant each. Yelling at the bakers (but really at the old hospital T.V.) to hurry up, to mix the ingredients better, to get the trays in the oven. It was one of the only almost enjoyable sessions we went to.  
Things got dark the next week though, when one of the regular patients, Ben, didn’t come back for his usual session.  
“I remember that day,” I say, keeping my eyes on the screen.  
“It was an almost good one,” he tells me.  
“It really was.”  
“I haven’t made up my mind about whether or not I want to say what happened the next week.”  
“Well, would rather be realistic or leave the reader on a high note?”  
“There are no high notes in this story, Phil. Just low and mediocre ones.”  
“Your life has most certainly had some high notes.”  
“Not since I got sick.”  
I don’t know why but I take that personally. I could never describe us being together as ‘mediocre’. Maybe this thing we are doing isn’t such a big deal to him after all.  
“Right,” I say stepping back and turning around.  
“Phil?” Dan calls as I leave the room.  
I feel a familiar sting in my eyes and try my very best to fight it back.  
First, he lies about where he goes to every damn Thursday and now…  
I step into the terrace and take a deep breath, trying to wish the tears away. I take advantage of the pretty decent view of the skyline we have and try do distract myself with London and its many inhabitants and buildings.  
“Phil.”  
I turn around to see Dan standing at the door.  
“Hey,” I simply say.  
“What was that?”  
“What was what?”  
“Why did you leave so abruptly?”  
I raise my shoulders in response.  
“Dude, come on. What happened?” He takes a step closer towards me and I take a step back.  
“I’m mediocre?” I ask, staring hard at the floor.  
“What?”  
“This thing we are doing, is this a mediocre point in your life? Because it certainly isn’t one in mine.”  
“By ‘this thing’ you mean us being boyfriends?”  
“That’s right.”  
“Phil, that’s not what I meant.”  
“Is it not? Look Dan, I’m sorry if this is not what you expected, if I’m not what you expected. But, if being healed and with me is still a mediocre point in your life, then I don’t think I know how to make you happy.”  
“You already make me happy. Everyday.”  
“I make you mediocre.”  
“That sentence doesn’t even make sense, Phil.”  
“It’s your word, not mine.”  
“I never used it to describe our relationship.”  
“You said nothing above mediocre had happened in your life since you got sick.”  
“I meant… I wasn’t referring to _you_ , Phil. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, how could you think it means nothing to me now?”  
“Because you _just_ said so.”  
“Can I show you something?” He asks slowly.  
“Is this you changing the topic?”  
“This is me trying to show you something.”  
“I don’t think so, Dan,” I reply shaking my head. “Maybe some other day.”  
“Please? It’ll just take a second. I want to show you something else I wrote. I haven’t decided if I should put it at the very beginning or at the very end.”  
“You know what? I don’t think I’m that interested in reading your book anymore.”  
“I promise you, you’ll like this bit.”  
“Is it mediocre like me?”  
“Will you stop acting like a child already?”  
“Whatever,” I reply crossing my arms and staring at the sky.  
Dan extends his hand, palm up, towards me. “Please come with me?”  
I roll but my eyes once again but take his hand and let him guide me back to where he left his computer.  
“Okay, I’ve gone through this part like a thousand times because I want it to be perfect. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s getting closer.”  
“What’s it about?”  
“Well, you, of course.”  
I give him a puzzled look. “What?”  
“Just read it, will you?”  
The title of the chapter is quite uncreative, but it does make a statement as to what it is about: ‘Phil’. I begin reading and with only the first paragraph I can already feel the knot in my throat tightening.  


_“If you had the chance to live forever, would you take it? Eternity might seem like a long time for some of you, but I’ve come to the realization that time means nothing when you are with the right person. For me, that right person has always been and always will be, Phil. I cherish every single day I get to spend with him and to be truthful with you, there could never be enough days.”_

  
I keep on reading and the tears that I’ve been fighting come pouring out. Words and phrases stand out from others on the screen and make my heart swell up.  
  
_“Soulmate” “Guide” “No one else could.” “Laying on the grass.” “Above and beyond” “Parallel” “Under the stars” “Unbelievable” “Luck” “Only one” “Fleeting” “Unreal” “Unlike anything”_  
  
I only get to end of the second page because the tears have become an impediment for me to keep on reading. I cannot believe that he wrote an entire chapter about me. And I can’t believe he didn’t want to show it to me.  
He wrote about our friendship and about him and about me and about our relationship and he did it all so beautifully.  
“You like it?” He asks biting his lip.  
I nod. “It’s lovely, Dan.”  
“You are lovely.”  
I take a step towards him and take his face in between my hands placing a soft kiss on his lips.  
“I’m glad you liked it so far, there are about 30 more pages,” my boyfriend says, smiling softly.  
I haven’t let go of his face so I pull him closer and connect our lips again, slower this time. I keep kissing him, dragging my hands across his shoulders and down his arms until I reach his hands.  
I take another tiny step towards him to get even closer, impossibly closer, and continue moving my lips against his.  


 

**Dan**

Somehow we end up in our room.  
Somehow we haven’t had sex even though we’ve been boyfriends for over a month now.  
I wrap my arms around his neck and play with the hair at the back of his head. I can feel Phil on my own neck and everywhere else.  
Everywhere he touches, it’s like he lights a little fire.  
“Are we doing this?” I ask and my voice breaks a little when I get to the last word. He looks into my eyes and in that moment I am reassured that I could stare at his for the rest of my life, even if I got to live to 100 or 1000.  
“Do you want to?” He is very serious all of a sudden and he’s never looked more beautiful.  
“I want to be with you,” I reply kissing him and pushing him onto the bed. He pushes back and we collide on each other like the waves we sat watching back when I thought this would never happen.   


*******

We are lying on our backs, next to each other, loosely holding hands.  
“That was…”  
“I know.”  
“I never thought…”  
“And yet.”  
“We should do it more often.”  
“Mhm.”  
“Hey, you know what I want to do?” I ask, turning on my side to face him.  
“Again? Already?”  
I roll my eyes. “I meant, I want to watch the New Year’s fireworks with you.”  
“Are you trying to turn our lives into a romcom?”  
“I’m trying to turn them into High School Musical, to be precise.”  
Phil exhales a laugh. “Well, I do like the whole kissing under the fireworks idea.”  
“Starting the new year with each other.”  
“As boyfriends.”  
“We could go have dinner somewhere with a view.”  
“I would like that very much.”  
“Then it’s a date.”  
“Want to shake on it?” He says offering me his hand.  
“Hm, I had something else in mind…”  


 

**Phil**

I wake up in the middle of the night and realize that I’m the only one on the bed. I sit up and look around the room as my eyes try to adjust to the darkness.  
“Dan?” I ask softly but he doesn’t answer so I get out of bed. “Dan, where are you?” I try again but still nothing. My chest feels heavy and suddenly I’m hyperventilating. I run to the bathroom but he’s not in there either. _Right, okay, it’s all good. He can’t be far away. He’s fine._ My hands are shaking and I can’t feel my body, I’m on full panic mode now. I reach for my phone and call him, but then I notice his phone vibrating on the nightstand. I hang up and then walk towards Dan’s phone. I’m losing my mind. _He probably just went to get water or something. He’s fine._ I run my fingers through my hair and chew the inside of my cheek before stepping outside of the room and heading for the kitchen. I call his name in the darkened room but get no response. I feel the cold floor against my feet as I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. _It’s not like he still has cancer. He is definitely not choking somewhere by himself. He is surely not lying unconscious somewhere._ I try to stay calm as my hands continue to shake recklessly. _He is not sick anymore, which means he is not dying in this very moment._ I think about all the places where he could possibly be and force my legs to move.  
I try the terrace next. I move the curtains, and sure enough, there he is, sat on a chair looking as pale as me under the moonlight.  
“What the fuck Dan?” I say as I open the door.  
“What?” he asks looking at me wide eyed.  
“I was so worried when I didn’t see you there, don’t ever pull something like that again, okay?” I reply stepping onto the balcony.  
“Fine. Sorry. I just needed some air,” he’s not looking at me, he is looking at the floor and his curls are falling over his forehead. I step forward but I’m also staring at the floor.  
“Was that… was that not what you wanted? Was it… was I not okay?” I feel so stupid saying those words out loud, I feel like I’m 16 again. But I can’t help the blood that rushes to my cheeks.  
“Come here,” Dan says as he takes my hand and drags me onto his lap. He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my shoulder. “You are all I’ve ever wanted, okay?”  
“Okay.”  
“I just needed to clear my mind a little.”  
“Were you having nightmares?”  
“You know about the nightmares?”  
“Of course I do, but you’ve been less restless since we started sleeping together. Last night you slept so soundly, I thought maybe we’d get lucky tonight as well.”  
“We did get lucky,” he says and I can hear the smirk in his voice. I can’t help but laugh.  
I move my head so that I’m facing him and ask, “Are you all right?”  
“As all right as I can be,” he replies smiling but it doesn’t reach his eyes.  
“I wish I could make you feel better,” I say resting my hands against his chest.  
“You do,” he sighs, touching his forehead to mine, “you always do.”  



End file.
